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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25411333">Write our names in the book of love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lifeandothercomplexities/pseuds/Lifeandothercomplexities'>Lifeandothercomplexities</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Riverdale (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, based on the film Equals (2015) forbidden romance in a world where emotional suppression is the norm, dystopian au, futuristic AU, mild angst with eventual happy ending, mild references to suicide and suicidal thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:00:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>35,106</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25411333</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lifeandothercomplexities/pseuds/Lifeandothercomplexities</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Did it feel good?”</p><p>Betty's breath comes out in a sharp gasp and she shakes her head, like she’s struggling to overcome an intoxication.</p><p>“I don’t know,” she swallows, “it just- it felt wrong.”</p><p>“Liar,” Jughead murmurs and tips her chin up with a gentle finger. “Nothing’s felt more right. Admit it-“</p><p>He leans towards her. The space between them is rife with a strange desperation. A push and a pull. He thinks he’s been travelling all his life to reach this destination, this tiny space between their lips and heartbeats. </p><p>I love you, he thinks, I love you and I don’t even know what it means. </p><p>Or</p><p>In a dystopian future where emotions do not exist, Jughead is diagnosed with a mysterious disease that restores human compassion and the ability to feel. Nothing is safe anymore as slowly he begins to fall in love; with the world around him and a woman with a secret of her own.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>136</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>217</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>8th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees, 8th Bughead Fanfiction Awards — Winners!</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/jandjsalmon/gifts">jandjsalmon</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherMaple/gifts">MotherMaple</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthLaughsInFlowers/gifts">EarthLaughsInFlowers</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepointoftheneedle/gifts">thepointoftheneedle</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamingofbughead/gifts">Dreamingofbughead</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! Wow! It's been a while! I hope you're all good my lovelies! So, this is an idea i've been playing around with ever since I saw the film Equals. It's honestly becoming a crazy habit, I like a movie and instantly think Bughead! But then don't we all?</p><p>Anyways, given what a scary place this world is right now, I thought it would be an interesting premise to explore, with hints of social distancing and pandemics thrown in to the mix! I haven't changed the plot so those of you who've seen the film, great! Those who heavn't, I highly recommend it as a quarantine watch! It is mesmerising and sensuous!</p><p>As always, all my love and gratitude to my darling beta Lana @jjonesin4, for her wonderful insights and encouragement despite being busy with creating culinery masterpieces and writing grogeous fics! Thank you babe! You're the best❤❤❤</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He dreams for the first time that night about a forest fire. </p><p>The sky is ablaze with the light of a thousand burning trees and he watches as the smoke rises up like bony fingers, curling around his throat, eating up the air around him, leaving him panting for his next breath. His vision blurs and he falls to his knees, the wetness of the grass beneath his fingertips oddly soothing even as breathing becomes harder. The smoke curls tighter, cutting off the last of his air and just before he passes out he sees a red haired man watching him from the forest, surrounded by the fire right before it engulfs him.</p><p>He wakes up with a start, breathing harshly, his body soaked in sweat. His heart seems too big for his rib cage, it’s beat like a drum in his ears. In his hurry to stand up he trips and falls, his limbs still tangled in the bed linen. He lands with a grunt on the floor and realizes there’s a wetness between his thighs. He pushes off the bed sheets and finds a mess of pearly- white, sticky fluid coating his thighs and upper abdomen. </p><p>It is the year 3092 and at twenty six years of age, Jughead realizes with a shock that he’s had his first ever nightmare and wet dream combined. And the panicky voice in his head tells him this is not a good thing.</p><p> </p><p>******</p><p> </p><p>The white emptiness of his room is soothing in the morning as he showers, then eats and dresses for work. Everything feels normal, he’s sure of it but he keeps repeating the symptoms in his head. Nightmares are atypical, most people report fatigue and nausea, headaches or blurring. He’s quite sure the vision he had- if he could even call it a nightmare- was a result of the late night reading he’s been doing to catch up on his illustrations. </p><p>He’ll make sure to avoid it. Everything is fine.</p><p>There’s a sense of discomfort when he exits the A5 residence. It’s a ten minute walk to Atmos- he times himself often when walking to and from his workplace- but today the distance seems stretched under a sun that is unforgiving, the heat of it sweltering, the sharp brightness of it irritable to his eyes. </p><p>It’s fine though, nothing unusual. </p><p>Temperatures are still rising. Global warming was a macabre gift the defects left for humankind before they destroyed themselves and Earth, an Earth that the Collective is still fighting to restore.</p><p>The world is still healing from a war that ended more than a hundred years ago. The historical texts tell them much, but so much has also been lost. It’s hard to imagine a world that was once inhabited by billions of humans whereas now the population has dwindled to merely a few million, nearly the entire human species wiped out within the span of twenty eight days, when bombs dropped and obliterated 99.6% of usable land on the Earth’s surface, an event that changed the course of humankind forever and is now known as the Last War.</p><p>Of the two tracts of land that survived the Last War, only the Collective had embraced the new way of life involving emotional suppression through gene silencing in an attempt to eliminate all human flaws. The other tract, called the Peninsula, stood 44 degrees west of the Collective and was a wild, primitive area containing empty, dilapidated buildings and desolate forests. Little was known of the primitive nature of the Peninsula’s inhabitants, other than the fact that these defects were still ruled by emotion and base desires.</p><p>It’s ironic, Jughead thinks, how the human mind still fought to return to that primitive state even now, as more and more people test positive for SOS each day.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The cool granite of the building greets him as does Betty’s perfunctory hello when he enters his office. He startles at the thought as he responds with a, “Good morning, Betty,” and makes a beeline for his interface. There was nothing wrong with his co-worker’s greeting and he wonders why he would think she didn’t mean it. Trevor and Midge walk in calling out hellos and he strains to deduct a change in their tones. He does not find one. </p><p>His illustration for Betty’s latest piece is nearly done and he’s adding finishing touches to his drawing of several defects gathered around a small fire, when Fred calls them in for their morning meeting, as usual.</p><p>Sitting at the table in Fred’s cool office, he finds himself fidgeting a little. Trevor asks him if he’s all right and he nods. Perhaps he’s contracted an eye infection because the light still feels irritable.</p><p>“Would you talk us through this particular illustration, Jughead?”</p><p>He clears his throat, trying to stop the incessant movement of his fingers.</p><p>“Of course, Fred. The defects huddled in groups, maintaining close physical contact to alleviate something they called anxiety. The pattern of family circles amongst them was repetitive over generations as we know, but it was common to have intimacy with individuals outside of family also. The illustration here pertains to Betty’s segment on the Peninsula, large parts of which remain uncharted, of course, still occupied by descendants of the defects. Of the little we know about them, familial behaviours continue to be practiced amongst those remaining.”</p><p>Fred nods, “Does the picture seem accurate, Betty?”</p><p>“It does,” Betty replies shortly. He’s often noticed how she has a tendency to avoid eye contact, but it seems particularly evident today, or maybe he’s just seeing things. He only realizes he’s been staring at her when Trevor asks him a question and he looks away, slightly disturbed by his inability to remain focused on their discussion like he normally can.</p><p>The rest of the day is uneventful. They talk about the latest reports from the space station on the new planet, Tk14; there has been much excitement in the Collective over a possible chance at colonisation on Apollo and it’s sister planet. The reports on environmental stability there have been promising. During lunch break, Ethel reminds them Josie is on conception duty and Dilton volunteers to cover for her absence. The conversation drones in monotonous undertones and, unaware that he’s staring again, Jughead watches Betty eat quietly, only contributing when someone addresses her.</p><p>He feels exhausted when he reaches his apartment late in the evening. Something feels off and he lies awake for several hours before falling into a restless sleep. He dreams that night about the edge of a steep hill, the soil beneath his toes, the wind between his fingers as he spreads his wings and soars.</p><p> </p><p>******</p><p> </p><p>It’s a repeat of the same cycle for three days before he finally comes to term with the fact that something is definitely wrong. His nightmares have become so vivid he finds himself afraid of falling asleep each night, resulting in increased difficulty to focus on his tasks at work in the morning, something he has never experienced before. His appetite has waned and he feels tired of how his mind seems to jump from one thought to the other.</p><p>On the fourth day after work, he finds himself sitting outside ‘Health and Security’, waiting for his name to be called out.</p><p>There’s a red haired man sitting next to him with a file marked SOS, six feet of space between them, yet Jughead finds himself feeling paranoid at the thought of being seated next to a positive patient. He knows the disease is not contagious but he can’t help flinching every time the man moves.</p><p>“What stage?” The man asks eventually, in a friendly voice and Jughead looks at him, feeling almost guilty at being addressed.</p><p>“Uh no- I don’t have it. It’s a strictly precautionary check up.”</p><p>The man nods, “I’m Jason.”</p><p>“Jughead.”</p><p>They sit quietly until Jughead asks, “What stage are you?”</p><p>“Second,” Jason answers, “I got it seven months ago.”</p><p>Jughead blinks at him in surprise, “You look healthy...”</p><p>Jason gives him a twisted smile, “I have my good days and bad days, but yeah it’s been mostly ok so far-“</p><p>An attendant calls out Jughead’s name and he gets up immediately.</p><p>“Good luck,” Jason calls out, “Lets hope you don’t have it.” </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Dr. curdle sits contemplating him with an aloof expression plastered on his face that Jughead finds daunting from across the table, like a lab rat under scrutiny in it’s glass cage.</p><p>“Could you recount the events for me in a little detail?” He asks after Jughead has given him a brief overview of his complaints.</p><p>He hesitates. In Dr. Curdle’s rather sterile little office, thoughts of flying and falling, forest fires and strange watchers in the woods seem like children’s stories. </p><p>“Well I...I’ve had two or three of such visions. The one last night, I remember standing on the edge of a tall building looking down. I remember my legs were shaking and my heart- felt like it was in my mouth- I stumbled and it was just,” he swallows, “It was extremely unpleasant. I don’t ever want to experience anything like that again.”</p><p>Dr. Curdle nods, looking concerned, “Go on.”</p><p>Jughead blinks at the doctor unsure on how to respond. </p><p>“Have there been other problems?”</p><p>“Oh, I- I didn’t really notice before, but I’ve had mild eye irritation every time I walk outside during daytime. I thought it was just due to the lack of sleep or an eye infection.”</p><p>Dr. Curdle nods again, “Anything else?”</p><p>“I don’t know, again, maybe it’s because of the disturbed sleep pattern- ” he pauses frowning, “I’ve had trouble focusing on simple tasks, and slight appetite loss.”</p><p>He watches as the doctor picks up a testing syringe from an ice box and slides closer.</p><p>“Hold out your arm please. I’m going to run a basic diagnostic. This will hurt a little.”</p><p>Jughead pulls up his shirt sleeve and holds out his arm.</p><p>“It’s not SOS right?” he blurts, unable to stop himself. There’s a strange feeling in his rib cage, a kind of crushing weight he’s unfamiliar with and he tries his hardest to keep his hands steady. Dr. Curdle doesn’t answer as he swipes an alcohol swab across his arm and keeping enough distance so as not to touch Jughead, inserts the needle in his skin, the blue of his punctured vein so bright in the artificial white light. </p><p>He waits a second before the tiny button on the syringe beeps and Jughead watches with a sense of despair as the biomarker strip on it’s side turns a bright red.</p><p>Dr. Curdle looks at him, mouth a grim line, and says, “It’s positive Jughead. I’m afraid you have SOS.”</p><p>Jughead stares at him. There’s a ringing in his ears and his peripheries feel numb. He has SOS. His entire life is about to change and yet he feels nothing. For a disease that is supposed to make you feel too much, he feels nothing at all. Surely the test was a false positive. </p><p>“You’re only stage one. You don’t have to worry about-“</p><p>“There was a woman in my residential complex who tested positive recently. We shared pottery class...I couldn’t have gotten it from her could I?”</p><p>“It’s not contagious Jughead,” Dr. Curdle says gently, “you know that.”</p><p>“I don’t understand. I haven’t been sick lately, or immunocompromised in any way. You don’t think the test could be a false positive? My symptoms aren’t even typical...this could be-“</p><p>“Jughead,” Dr. Curdle repeats, “Your test result isn’t false. I understand your concern, but we’ve recently had a spike in the number of individuals without any prior medical issues testing positive. It isn’t your fault in any way, but there seems to be no set list of predisposing factors that enhance virus susceptibility in individuals.” </p><p>“Right,” Jughead says curtly. He feels a dull throbbing pain now in his temples. The numbness seems to be fading already, his heartbeat is loud in his ears. Dr. Curdle is right of course. He’s going to feel everything very soon. The dread in his gut is only the beginning.</p><p>“So- I have- what, six months before the DEN?”</p><p>“You don’t have to think about that just yet, Jughead. You can function in almost full capacity with the inhibitors I’m going to give you for some time, and even as the disease progresses...remember, a cure is just around the corner.”</p><p>There are so many questions at the tip of his tongue, but he finds himself unable to voice them.</p><p>“I would suggest you maintain a journal, catalogue some of your experiences if possible...it may not necessarily help but it can be an effective outlet sometimes. You will experience an overwhelming degree of emotions, the nature of which will grow more complex as the disease progresses.”</p><p>Jughead nods. He has the sudden urge to pick up the paper weight on Dr. Curdle’s desk and hurl it across the room. That would make a worthwhile entry in his journal for sure.</p><p>He leaves eventually, clutching the prescription the doctor has written out for him. The pharmacist frowns at it then hands him three little bottles with neat instructions stamped on each one. She also gives him a box and he opens it to find black shades in it. </p><p>“For the photophobia,” she tells him kindly and a strange lump forms in his throat.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He reaches his apartment and immediately turns on the tutorial Dr. Curdle had recommended he should watch. The robotic tone of the woman’s voice grates on his nerves but he settles down to try and understand what is going on with him. There’s an animated film playing as the woman’s voice narrates:</p><p>“If you are watching this film, your doctor has diagnosed you with SOS, switched on syndrome. As members of the Collective, we hear a lot about switched on syndrome. Here is important information about how this debilitating disease will affect you and how you can manage it responsibly before eventual containment at the defective emotional neuropathy facility, commonly referred to as the DEN.”  </p><p>“Switched on syndrome is a malfunction of the gene silencing that controls human emotions and eliminates human flaws. In SOS, problem genes lose their silencing and reawaken, leading to unpredictable sensory experiences and behavioural disturbances. Until a cure is available, inhibitors are the only means of slowing down the disease’s stages while dampening the onset of emotions. While the causes are unknown, we do understand the disease’s progression. During stage one, the intermittent stage, you will feel difficulty in concentration, depression, pain, overwhelmed feelings, impulsivity and sensitivity to light. As the disease progresses to stages two and three, the stages of persistent low level emotion and emotional volatility respectively, all these symptoms will worsen. In stage four, the stage of acute behavioural chaos, you will no longer function as a productive member of the Collective, at which point your doctor will prescribe containment at the DEN. The DEN will provide you treatments such as electro restraints for emotional suppression and eventually a pain free death scenario. If you have any further questions regarding your condition, please notify your doctor or nearest health and security officials. And remember, a cure is just around the corner. The collective thanks you for playing your part in making this world a better, stronger, and healthier place.”</p><p>The screen goes blank. Jughead feels just as blank as he sits in the darkening room, unable to move, feeling strangely numb once more. His fingers are trembling when he finally picks up the little bottle of brightly coloured pills.</p><p>They taste bitter in his mouth when he swallows them with a sip of water before dinner. He sits at the table waiting to check if something feels different, if things make more sense somehow. His dinner tastes the same but he does feel slightly less restless as he changes for bed.</p><p>That night he has no nightmares but he wakes up twice nonetheless, feeling for some reason an almost strange kind of loss for something he can’t even name.</p><p> </p><p>******</p><p> </p><p>He decides not to tell his colleagues for a few days until he’s ready to accept his diagnosis. The meds are already helping him focus more, and if sometimes he feels almost wooden like a toy soldier, well that can’t be helped. </p><p>The world is a different place with SOS. It is sharper, brighter, the colours more pronounced. Despite the inhibitors, the sheer magnitude of sensory information that he can now process is overwhelming at times. </p><p>Even people look different. He notices them more, the way they move and talk. The little mannerisms that are so characteristic to each one of them and yet something that he’d never really thought about before. He also realizes with something akin to shock that he’s attracted to the women. He can’t help observing the way their uniforms tend to fit them differently, the subtle curves that are severely hidden under all that crisp, white fabric. He can’t help notice how their hair looks different from the men’s, or the way their lips seem rounder and fuller or how mesmerizing their skin looks when it’s hot outside. How their waists are so slender and their hips broader. </p><p>He notices all his female co-workers until he starts noticing Betty more. And then he has eyes only for Betty.</p><p>Initially he thinks it’s because out of all the women, he is attracted most to Betty. It’s not untrue...for whatever reason his sickness driven brain has chosen, everything about Betty appeals to him in a way that sometimes makes it hard to control certain urges. He has to constantly remind himself not to stare at her or try to touch her whenever she is near him.</p><p>He begins obsessing over her, telling himself it’s his attraction that is making him see things. Eventually however, it becomes hard to ignore the truth; Betty is, in fact, unlike the rest of his female co-workers. Or any of his co-workers for that matter.</p><p>Betty, he realizes, is like him. </p><p>She notices things. She is affected by the world around her in ways even he can’t fathom. He watches the way her hands sometimes curl subtly inside her palms, or the way she bites her lips when she thinks no one is looking. There’s something so vibrant about her eyes, something so warm and wonderful and human. Her face is always schooled to appear calm, a pleasantly blank look that mimics everyone else but now that he can tell the difference, he senses how much passion and feeling is hidden beneath that perfect mask.</p><p>Sometimes he wonders if his mind is messing with him. He realizes he had never actually noticed how alarming the number of new cases diagnosed per day was, because it was something that had not affected him directly before. Now, everywhere he looks, he can see more people who are living with SOS, the wild hunted look in their eyes mirroring his own fear.</p><p>He wonders if this is what he’s projecting on Betty. He wants to be able to connect with someone, someone who’s not a stranger, someone who’ll understand the exact nature of what he’s going through. He wants more than anything else to be able to confide to someone that beneath the constant fear and stress of having the disease, he has overwhelming guilt over the fact that his heart has never felt more alive than it does now. He can’t help but wonder if this is what it really feels like to be normal.</p><p>It’s a dangerous thought.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He’s walking back to his residence in A5 one night when one of the Health and Security officials stops him at the main entrance.</p><p>“One moment,” he says holding up a hand, “There’s been some trouble in the building, we’ll let you in as soon as it’s been handled.”</p><p>He looks around and notices that there are several people from his building standing around waiting and he wonders what kind of an emergency warranted an evacuation.</p><p>The question answers itself when ten minutes later, officers in black exit along with a man who is draped only in a white sheet. He looks shell shocked and completely bewildered as they drag him along. Jughead looks around trying to figure what’s wrong when more officials in black appear, this time with a woman who is struggling and screaming like a madwoman. Her hair is askew and she looks terrified, dressed like the man in only a white sheet that is barely covering her naked body.</p><p>“David!” she screams, trying to pull herself away from the two men holding her, “Please, not David! Please let him go, please don’t hurt him! It wasn’t his fault-“</p><p>They push her into a large van marked with the H&amp;S sign and her screaming cuts off the second the doors of the van close. Jughead stands staring at the two vans as they drive away, his pulse beating wildly, the woman’s screams still ringing in his ears.</p><p>“It’s alright to return to your rooms now,” someone calls out and he turns back. Several of the officials are ushering people back inside the building, reassuring everyone it’s safe. </p><p>“It’s the DEN for those two,” a man murmurs as Jughead walks back inside with the other residents.</p><p>“Do you know who reported them?” Someone asks and a woman nods.</p><p>“I did, he lived next door to me,” she says, “I had a feeling something was going on. Thank goodness they caught them in time.”</p><p>The others hum in agreement and the complete lack of emotion on their faces makes his skin crawl, a strange fear gripping his heart. They seem to be completely oblivious to the fact that a woman just sent two people to their deaths. He feels sick by the time he makes it to his room and doesn’t even bother undressing or eating as he pops the pills in his mouth and falls on his bed, praying only for the numbness and forgetfulness of sleep. </p><p> </p><p>******</p><p> </p><p>“Did you hear about the couplers in A5?” Ethel brings up at lunch the next day. Betty’s sitting next to her today, six feet of designated space always between them. Jughead sits facing them, Midge sitting next to him on the bench. He chews his steak and nods. </p><p>“I was walking to my room last night when they made the arrest.”</p><p>“Did you know them?” Betty asks curiously. Her food appears untouched.</p><p>“Not really,” Jughead shrugs, “I think David lived on the floor above mine. Saw him a couple times near the stairs, but not much else.”</p><p>“I knew Summer. She worked at the pharmacy,” Midge says, squinting at him, “Both hiders, can you imagine? It makes me so upset, the dishonesty of these people and how they’re willing to risk everything we’ve worked for to experience some emotional high- It’s selfish.”</p><p>Betty looks at her and asks, “You don’t think they’re hiding because they’re maybe- just afraid of ending up in the DEN?”</p><p>“They wouldn’t be coupling if they were actually afraid,” Midge responds coolly and Betty nods, taking what appears to be her first bite.</p><p>“It’s just so-” Ethel pauses, chewing slowly, “-distasteful. I can’t understand what kind of desperation compels you to commit acts of such a shameful physical nature.”</p><p>To her right, Betty swallows a dainty mouthful, her face carefully impassive, the sunlight a bright halo around her gold hair. </p><p>Jughead looks at her and his mouth feels dry.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He touches himself for the first time that night while taking a shower. He’s thinking about so many things all at once, when his mind strays to Betty. He thinks about the couplers and Ethel’s disdain for them. He remembers how he’d been staring so intensely at Betty when she’d looked up. He remembers the way she’d bitten her lip and looked away but not before the colour had bloomed in her cheeks. It’s all it takes for him to get hard and slowly he begins stroking himself. He’s been reading about all the changes, his increased sensitivity and awareness, the bouts of depression and anxiety, but more than anything else, the intense episodes of sexual desire he experiences. The defects had frequently engaged in activities of a sexual nature, a concept that had seemed so bizarre before but now only triggers his imagination.</p><p>The pleasure keeps building. It’s not hard to understand his sexual drive when it makes every nerve fiber tingle. His entire body seems to be hurtling towards something, some kind of heightened existence, a build up and release and he moans calling out Betty’s name, slapping one hand to brace himself against the wall as he finishes to a mind numbing orgasm. The white hot spurts of cum coat his hands and abdomen, making a mess and he groans one last time before slumping. His breathing is laboured and everything is a blur, visions of his body meshed with Betty’s still vivid in his brain.</p><p>Ethel had said she couldn’t understand what kind of desperation drove the couplers. Shameful, she’d called it.</p><p>Jughead presses his forehead against the cool smooth tile and breathes out slowly. The tension in his body has dissipated so that every cell, every pore seems to hum with contentment. Ethel would probably never understand, but he does; he understands exactly the nature of the desperation those couplers felt. He wonders if he would risk his own life to experience this with Betty, even for just a night.</p><p>The water makes a path down his body and he closes his eyes, her face stamped in acute detail behind his eyelids. He’d risk it to be with her. He knows it without a doubt in his heart.</p><p>He misses his dose of inhibitors that night for the first time, flushing them down the drain, something like a small rebellion awakening inside him as he watches the little pills disappear.</p><p> </p><p>******</p><p> </p><p>It begins getting worse; his constant longing for Betty and his new found streak for defiance every time he doesn’t take his meds.</p><p>He makes a point to keep his glasses on during work so no one can notice how his eyes keep following her around. He keeps trying to think up reasons to talk to her, often intentionally making mistakes in his illustrations so that she has to talk him through her work. At lunch, he tries to sit facing her, so he can look at her whenever she talks, memorising every single subtly changing expression on her face. If Betty’s noticed something odd about his behaviour, she doesn’t show it, but sometimes he thinks there’s a slight wariness in the way she approaches him.</p><p>It’s been two weeks now since his diagnosis and he still hasn’t told anyone at work. He thinks he might just keep his secret a while longer but without the inhibitors to help him, everything comes crashing down with a cup of coffee during one of their morning meetings in Fred’s office. Ethel’s talking about her latest piece on Apollo’s atmospheric composition when he loses track of the ongoing discussion and accidently knocks his coffee cup on the table. The coffee spills on the journals spread out across the table, seeping through the pages and everyone rushes to help clear up as Jughead sits frozen in his seat. His hands are trembling uncontrollably and, try as he might, he finds himself unable to stop their shaking.</p><p>“Are you alright?”</p><p>Jughead blinks, suddenly becoming aware of the fact that everyone is staring at him. His heartbeat becomes erratic and the room begins to spin.</p><p>“Jughead?” </p><p>He realizes Betty’s the one talking to him and he looks at her breathing out slowly, trying to ground himself in her wide, warm green eyes, fixed on him so intently, almost like she’s telling him it’s ok.</p><p>He swallows and stands up, feeling almost lightheaded. Fred clears his throat, drawing attention to himself.</p><p>“Is there something you want to tell us Jughead?”</p><p>Jughead finally looks away from Betty and says, “I actually do. I suppose it’s time I told you I- uh, recently tested positive for SOS. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier but I made sure with the doctor again that it- it isn’t contagious in any way so none of you have been exposed.”</p><p>To his right, Donna very subtly moves her chair a further foot away. Jughead curls his hands then breathes out slowly again.</p><p>“The doctor said I’m good to keep working here for now, the inhibitors he gave me are quite helpful-“</p><p>“Of course, Jughead,” Fred says kindly, “I’m really sorry to hear about this. What stage are you?”</p><p>“Stage one,” he says dully, feeling claustrophobic under the pitying stares directed at him, “I didn’t have any of the typical symptoms and the doctor had no idea why I got it. Again it’s not contagious but I’ll wear a face mask if you’d prefer it. And I will try to limit interacting with everyone, of course. My meds help, but I respond to things differently despite them and I- I understand that can be uncomfortable to deal with.”</p><p>Several people hum in agreement.</p><p>“I think a mask would be too extreme,” Betty says quietly and the murmuring stops. She looks around at the table, “I think some degree of isolation should be enough for now at least, while you’re still stage one.”</p><p>“Of course,” he responds, his throat feels dry, almost like there’s a latent ache there clawing its way out, “I’ll sit separately during lunch and I can shift my interface to the back of the room.”</p><p>“That would be much appreciated,” Fred says, “Jughead, we cured the common cold. We cured cancer. We cured Covid. We’re going to cure SOS, son. You’re going to live.”</p><p>He blinks and nods then sits down. It’s hard to swallow, his throat is still burning. He looks up to find Betty once again staring at him while everyone around them has resumed discussion on the topic.</p><p>Her face is expressionless but somewhere in the depths of her green irises, strangely enough it seems there is a world of unspoken apologies all meant for him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The atmosphere shifts a little in the office. The others behave slightly cautious around him and though it pinches, he feels relieved that he is mostly left alone. Strangely enough, his symptoms seem to be under control, for now at least, despite his continued refusal to take his meds. It feels almost like a victory because he’s noticed he’s been feeling more energetic and focused lately, his work coming easily, the drawings more detailed than any of his previous work so that both Betty and Fred have noticed and commented on it. He feels more confident each day in his abilities, his will power increases. Maybe no one has fought off the disease before because no one has ever tried hard enough, he tells himself, hope soaring in his heart at times. Maybe if he tries, he can actually beat it and go back to normal. </p><p>His little bubble of hope breaks with most of the bones in Chuck’s skull when he jumps to his death on a bright sunny day from the floor above Jughead’s, the thirty-ninth floor in Atmos.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jughead is working quietly by the window when he senses something zoom past him, almost with an audible cry although the windows are soundproof. He whips around looking out to find nothing.</p><p>“Did someone see that?” Fred calls out from the front of the room, “I think someone jumped.”</p><p>Everyone moves from their work stations, scrambling towards the glass windows and Jughead shakes his head, snapping to attention when Donna comes to stand right next to him, closer than she has in several weeks.</p><p>Thirty-nine floors below them, on the polished white marble of the courtyard’s floor, Chuck’s lifeless body lies like a broken doll. His legs are bent at a horrible angle, the white of his uniform stained a bright red as the blood pools around him. Jughead can’t seem to look away even though horror rises like bile in his throat. Snippets of conversation reach his ears like he’s standing far away from them all, some words more audible than others.</p><p>“That’s unfortunate-“</p><p>“It must have been quick, didn’t stand a chance-“</p><p>“That’s our first jumper in a while. What stage was he-“</p><p>“I hope they can replace him soon-“</p><p>“Did anyone know him?”</p><p>“I don’t think I’ve seen him before-“</p><p>Jughead stands there thinking whether he should say he did know him. His name was Chuck and they shared an after work carpentry class. There’s something so morbidly funny about that thought. There’s a man lying dead below them, someone they’ve all probably seen hundreds of times each day at work, and yet the sum total of his worth is a name and a random fact about him. No one really knows who he was, his dreams, his aspirations, his fears? Did he have any at all? He had SOS, everyone knows that now, but had he been hiding it? Was he lonely Jughead wonders. Was he happy, sad, desperate? What made a man desperate enough to end his own life in such a violent manner? Was Jughead himself also headed towards such an end?</p><p>“A woman also committed suicide in my residential complex last night. They found her hanging from the ceiling,” Donna murmurs. “It was highly unpleasant.” </p><p>Several people hum in agreement. Jughead finally looks away from the body, snapping out of his reverie at her words, something cold twisting in his stomach. He’s always liked Donna. She’s kind and helpful, just like everyone else, but there’s something so deeply disturbing about equating such a tragic end to someone’s life with one’s own sense of discomfort. He wonders how unpleasant these people would find his demise if he jumped from the building one day.</p><p>His eyes stray towards Betty next like they always do. She seems unaffected like the rest of them but her face is unusually pale and he catches the movement of her hands, that almost spasmodic curling of her palms followed by immediate uncurling. She looks up suddenly to find him staring, and for a second he thinks something flashes in her face, a hint of panic maybe, but then it’s gone just as quickly and Betty simply nods at him and walks back to her interface. </p><p>He’s the last one to walk away from the window, long after Health and Security officials have left with the body wrapped in a bag, the only sign of Chuck’s suicide the smattering of blood on the white marble floor, the rest of it hosed down in a red river by one of the cleaners. Strange how much a man can bleed he thinks dully, as he returns to his illustration. </p><p> </p><p>******</p><p> </p><p>Chuck’s death changes everything. Loneliness seeps in as the days bleed in to weeks, subtly clawing it’s way around his heart when he sits alone in his room after work every night. He longs for company, for the sound of laughter, for someone’s hand against his own, for the warmth of people and places and memories. For the simple act of belonging. </p><p>He keeps thinking he should start taking the inhibitors again, but every time he reaches for them an unexplainable guilt erupts within and he finds himself repulsed by the idea of an existence devoid of all the pulsing emotion that lives within him now.</p><p>He feels torn between two versions of himself, the deeply depressed loner and the nearly manic artist who has passion and energy and an almost obsessive desire to live and experience everything the world has to offer before his time is up. On some days work drags on and he finds himself unmotivated to finish his projects so that often Betty has to remind him to keep up when he has nothing ready for her. On those days everything seems purposeless in the grand scheme of things when he knows he is slowly moving towards an end, an end that seems to loom overhead within a very tangible time frame. </p><p>His colleagues continue to be their usual polite selves albeit from a distance, but no one actually seems to care about the desperate turmoil that rages in him most days. His mood swings make it hard to be responsive sometimes, and he makes it a point to work quietly at the back of the room and sit separately during lunch. </p><p>If anyone seems to notice it’s Betty. She waits for him patiently while he continues to lag behind. When he tells her hesitantly that he’s having trouble focusing she sends him an audio of her latest article, stopping shortly by his interface to tell him it’ll be easier to focus on listening rather than reading it for the details required for his illustration. </p><p>He nods gratefully and then plays it thirty two times, her gentle voice like a balm, soothing his frayed nerves, it’s melodious echoing, sweet in his ears when he sleeps that night. </p><p>To his surprise it actually helps. He catches up with the articles and Fred looks relieved in their next meeting when Jughead turns up with all of his work ready to be presented. Betty smiles at him, like she always does but his heartbeat quickens in a way that is hard to describe. </p><p>That evening as soon as she bids everyone goodbye, he turns off his interface and then waits only two minutes before following her out. He can see her, walking probably towards her residence and keeping at a safe distance, Jughead starts following her.</p><p>She keeps her head down and doesn’t look back once till almost fifteen minutes later, she enters a large white building with J6 stamped across the glass entrance, an almost identical residence to his own. He stands waiting there, just looking at the building until his heartbeat returns to normal, and then slowly starts on his own route.</p><p>His depressive episode ends and he resumes his habit, obsessively noting her every move, thinking about her constantly, following her home, but the motive has changed. He’s desperate to find a single crack, a single flaw that confirms his suspicions because every day spent wondering seems to drive him closer to insanity. Is she like him or is she like the others? Can she feel all these terrible, wonderful, maddening emotions that engulf him and threaten to drown him or is she simply like everyone else, full of a senseless sympathy but devoid of any empathy?</p><p>He’s following her again late one evening, repeating these questions over and over in his head, desperate to solve the enigma of Betty, when he turns a sharp corner and stops short, finding her gone. He gapes, looking around, baffled by the fact that she has seemingly disappeared into thin air. </p><p>Jughead’s still squinting in the fading light of day when someone clears their throat.</p><p>“You have to stop.”</p><p>He freezes and turns around. She’s standing behind him, staring at him and although her face is schooled to mimic the same impassive serenity that the others possess, there’s something definitely guarded about her eyes. He thinks it might be fear.</p><p>He doesn’t say anything so she repeats, “You need to stop or I’ll have to report you.”</p><p>Jughead’s mouth quirks. “You have it, don’t you-“</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking-“</p><p>“The disease,” he cuts her off annoyed. He has it, he can see things the others can’t see and she knows it. She can’t just pretend everything’s fine. Her eyes widen for a second but that’s the only confirmation he needs.</p><p>“You have it,” he says almost triumphantly, “You have SOS.”</p><p>“I’m clean.” </p><p>It comes out with so much conviction that he has to take a moment to wonder how she’s keeping up this facade. Her face hasn’t betrayed her once. She looks as cool and collected as she does everyday. If it wasn’t for her eyes, the tiniest cracks in her perfect act, he’d be doubting himself right now.</p><p>“I’ve been watching you, little things...you respond differently. You aren’t as unaffected as you try to appear. With Clayton that day,“ he pauses and swallows. It’s still so vivid in his mind, the blood pooling around Chuck’s lifeless body, “I was looking at you. You could barely control it. Your hands-“</p><p>His eyes flicker to her hands and she pulls them behind her almost involuntarily. </p><p>“I wouldn’t have noticed if I didn’t have it,” he ends quietly, “Be honest with me Betty...we wouldn’t be having this conversation if you didn’t have it. You’d have reported me already.”</p><p>Betty stares at him for the longest time and then she shakes her head, smiling sadly.</p><p>“I can’t imagine what you must be going through. And I can understand your need to see things that aren’t there,” she crosses her arms and her tone is almost wistful when she says, “I don’t have it. I’m clean. I won’t report you for this, but I will if you don’t stop. Goodnight Jughead.”</p><p>She walks past him, leaving him there breathing raggedly as he forces himself not to turn around and follow her again.</p><p>He gets home and stumbles towards the cabinet where his medicines are. His mind feels like it’s going to explode. He’s so angry, it’s almost visceral. He wants to break something and he nearly hurls the glass he’s filled to half with water.</p><p>After missing them for so many days, the pills taste bitter in his mouth once more as he swallows them one by one. The numbness begins to seep in slowly and, as exhausted as he feels, it takes two hours before his mind finally shuts down and his eyes begin to droop in sleep but even then he finds no escape.</p><p>He dreams that night of Chuck jumping from the window. The blood pools around him and his eyes are wide with fear, just like Betty’s.</p><p> </p><p>******</p><p> </p><p>Human interaction must have been an awkward thing to deal with before emotional suppression became the norm, he thinks. His every day morning greetings with Betty are now rife with a strange kind of tension that radiates across the room, constantly reminding him of her presence and the conversation they had. He feels resentful, yet the burden of his disease seems lessened somehow. She may not be willing to admit it, but there is not a doubt in his mind she’s afflicted. It makes them comrades, more so than the others, if only she would look his way and meet his eyes once. </p><p>At the lunch table he often notices her playing with her food listlessly and he finds a savage pleasure in the fact that, if nothing else, he has at least affected her appetite.</p><p>He begins staying back often, working late on his work for his presentations in the morning. He likes the quiet, the absence of other people making it easier to focus on his tasks when he isn’t constantly distracted by every sound and movement. Several days into this routine, however, when Ethel calls out goodbye, he looks up to find Betty also working at her interface, which is unusual. Betty’s work is never late so it’s rare to see her working overtime. He ignores her and goes back to his drawing, drowning out as much of the sound of her voice as she records her observations.</p><p>“I’m heading out,” Trevor says some five minutes later. He’s the only one left apart from Betty and Jughead, the entire office quiet and empty now. </p><p>“Betty are you coming? There’s an art exhibit at the stadium I’m hoping to see, I think you’d enjoy it..”</p><p>Betty looks up from her interface. She’s facing away from Jughead so he can’t see her expression but the cheerful tone of her voice sounds forced as she says, “I have some work to catch up on but save me a chair. I might be able to make it later.”</p><p>Trevor nods and walks out leaving the two of them alone. Jughead stares at her back, willing her silently to turn around and look at him but she doesn’t, so he huffs silently and goes back to his work.</p><p>He’s startled by the sound of a soft sob a few minutes later and looks up to find that Betty has taken a seat now. He wonders if he’s imagined the sound but then he notices her shoulders shaking. He walks slowly towards her, clearing his throat but she doesn’t move.</p><p>She’s sitting staring straight ahead, clasping and unclasping her hands and he is fascinated with the movement of her fingers. She must have seen him, he’s standing right next to her but she makes no move to still her hands. He can tell she’s struggling with something, her face is an open book full of conflict. A single tear makes its way down her lovely face and he feels wreaked with a strange emotion, a sudden stifling regret that he’s somehow responsible for her tears. Why is she crying, now of all times? He’s not going to report her, surely she knows that? He’s not a monster...if anything he’d just been trying to reach out. Of course he understands what she’s doing is in the name of self preservation, even if he thinks hiding her symptoms is risky. </p><p>He’s about to turn around and walk away when Betty gets up abruptly and wipes her face, her expression set in some kind of decision. She looks at him, meeting his eyes almost in surrender and then walks out of the room. From the large glass partition he watches her move not towards the main exit door but the other way leading towards the cafeteria and bathrooms. His heartbeat accelerates in a familiar manner that he now associates with Betty. He waits a beat and then, as if drawn by a magnet, follows her path towards the bathrooms. The swinging door is still in motion when he gets there, and he reaches for it with his heart in his mouth. </p><p>It’s quiet inside and a quick check reveals all the stalls are empty save one. He tries to breathe evenly, but the air seems to have been sucked out of the room like that little door is a black hole pulling everything viable inside. He rests his forehead on that door, his palms sweaty, his pulse thundering in his ears, waiting for one last sign that he should turn back. The minute that door opens and he crosses that threshold, everything he has known and believed his entire life will change. </p><p>He sets fire to his bridges and opens the door anyway.</p><p>She’s inside.</p><p>Betty’s standing, leaning against the opposite wall. She’s no longer crying, but in the dim blue light her face is wet with tears. She looks- resigned. </p><p>Jughead wants to tell her he’s sorry, he’s so, so sorry because whatever happens now- he’s condemned them both. He closes the door gently, taking care to twist the lock as quietly as he can and then leans back against it, crossing his arms behind his back in a manner that mimics her. She’s trembling and he realizes with a start so is he. There’s hardly five feet of space between them and yet it’s the longest distance he’s ever needed to cross. Everything seems balanced precariously at the edge of a knife, and he wonders almost idly if this is what it was like at the beginning, for all those people before him, some now dead, some still awaiting their ends in the DEN, or if insanity chooses a different fate for each one of them and this feeling, this overwhelming, irrational desire that he has for her is something that exists solely for his mind’s unravelling. </p><p>Slowly, very slowly he reaches out a hand towards her and pauses midway. Betty stares at his hand with something akin to fear, like it’s a snake coiled to spring and then just as slowly reaches out her own. Their fingers barely touch, and yet, at this smallest of touches, it feels like his entire body is on fire. He can’t help it as he grips her small hand in his own and lets out a shuddering breath. Betty’s breathing is just as laboured and in this moment he thinks the entire world could come crashing down and he wouldn’t know it. Not with her lovely eyes, wide and warm and wanting, fixed on his own.</p><p>She slowly pulls his hand upwards towards her face, and he watches with a gnawing hunger as she traces his outstretched fingers across her cheekbones, her eyebrows, the delicate bridge of her nose and then finally her lips. She lets her own hand fall limply and Jughead takes the lead, cautious in his exploring as he learns the contours of her face, running his thumb back and forth across her lips, feeling the texture of them, so familiar and yet so, so different to his own. Sensuous and tempting. The call of them.</p><p>Something finally breaks in her and with a strangled sob she walks the last two steps eradicating the existing space between them and pushes herself flush against his body, her head coming to rest right over his wildly beating heart.</p><p>He has no idea how but his arms eventually wind up around her and he pulls her even closer, relishing in her body heat. They stand there for the longest time in a soft embrace, simply breathing each other in, the closest form of physical contact either one of them has had in their entire lives (at least for him, although he’s quite sure for her, too. The intermittent shaking of her body is a clear enough indicator that Betty has never touched anyone else before, let alone hug them.)</p><p>Betty’s face is wet against the skin of his throat and he thinks there must be something sacred about giving the salt of your body to another. It hardly feels like a sin or disease.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I got it about a year and a half ago,” she says later, her voice soft in the quiet of the stall. They’re both seated on the floor now facing each other, their legs tangled. Betty has her arms crossed around her knees as she speaks hesitantly, “I didn’t want to go see a doctor, didn’t want to take the meds. It just- it wasn’t like anybody could help with it. And people say it’s not contagious, but you get so sick of the way they look at you, with a kind of pitying fear. I didn’t want that.”</p><p>Jughead doesn’t say anything but nods in agreement. </p><p>“I just- I kept thinking I could overcome it somehow, live with it and not let it affect me but- I don’t know, I learn new things everyday and I think I’m better prepared, but something always catches me off guard,” she takes a shuddering breath and looks at him defeatedly. “I am practicing unbearable self control and discipline every single minute, but it’s just exhausting at this point, that constant fear of getting caught. You know what would happen to us if they found us right? It’s a death sentence, no questions asked.”</p><p>He closes his eyes. It’s hard to see his own fear reflected in her eyes. There’s so much he wants to say to her, ask her.</p><p>“I know, I tell myself that every time I miss a dose,” he admits, “I just, I feel so guilty because I don’t want to go back to feeling normal...does that even make sense?”</p><p>“Yeah. It makes complete sense,” she smiles sadly at him.</p><p>They sit there staring at each other for some time. Everything feels stretched; time, distance, hope. He wonders if he will ever get over the feel of her lips against his fingers, they still seem to tingle with faint memory.</p><p>“What was it for you? The first sign?” she asks eventually, leaning back against the door.</p><p>“What, like what tipped me off?”</p><p>“Yeah-“</p><p>Jughead takes a moment to consider, “I had nightmares and photophobia. But these are things people without SOS can sometimes experience too. I guess I uh-“</p><p>He pauses, a funny prickling sensation behind his neck. Betty raises a curious eyebrow, “What?”</p><p>“I had an overwhelming degree of sexual thoughts. Out of nowhere. Like even now it’s- I think a lot about sexual intercourse.”</p><p>Her face stills and then crumples into a smile and she laughs- it’s low, they’re still whispering- but the sound of it is unlike anything he’s ever heard, soft and sweet and happy. It makes him want to reach out and touch her again. He curls his fingers into fists instead.</p><p>Her eyes are twinkling as she clears her throat. “I think that’s pretty normal- I mean as normal as it can be with the condition. I guess it’s part of returning to instinctive human behaviour. Sex was essential to reproduction and survival until it wasn’t. I think that’s why it’s the first thing that just hits you in SOS.”</p><p>Jughead nods, “So you did too?”</p><p>“Think about it? Yeah. Stage one, stage two was a lot of sexual thoughts. I was constantly umm-“ She falters a little and Jughead watches curiously as her face slowly flushes, her cheeks turning a warm pink, “I think I was aroused by a lot of things and I tried experimenting, touching myself, that kind of thing. It used to be overwhelming but it’s gotten better- that part at least as the disease has progressed. I think it’s because what I feel now is more complex, there’s a wider range of emotions that you might not relate to at this point, but also the ability to turn off the constant sexual desire, I can control those urges better now.”</p><p>Jughead nods again. They stare at each other for a minute and then he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind, “I think a lot about sexual intercourse with you.”</p><p>Betty looks away immediately and he regrets his words. He keeps forgetting he needs to think about what he says and does now that a lot of his inhibitory reflexes don’t work like before. She’s still looking away and there’s a tense expression on her face. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he murmurs softly, “I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just- I...I keep forgetting I can’t just say everything that comes to my mind now.” </p><p>Her face softens in understanding and she leans slightly towards him. His heart picks up a crazy rhythm and he has to forcefully stop himself from leaning towards her too.</p><p>“Look, you’re going to have to work on a lot of things. You won’t fool them long if you just give in to your instincts. You have to practice control and the sooner you start working on it, the better equipped you’ll be to deal with your emotions as the disease progresses.”</p><p>He’s quiet. He thinks there’s really no point in telling her he can’t imagine lasting as long as she did on her own before the authorities find out. He’s a diagnosed case and already under scrutiny. There’s no way he’ll just be able to fool his doctor that he’s still taking his medication.</p><p>“It would be too much of a risk.”</p><p>Her quiet voice snaps him out of his reverie. He looks at her confused.</p><p>“What would be a risk?”</p><p>Betty shrugs, “I don’t know, just starting something physical?”</p><p>“You mean trying to have sexual-“</p><p>“Yeah Jughead, “ She says, sounding flustered, “you don’t have to say sexual intercourse every time.”</p><p>He swallows the saliva that keeps pooling in his mouth. God this is such a bad idea. He has no clue how he’s supposed to behave around her, how he’s supposed to slow his heartbeat, and not stare at her face. She’s so beautiful it’s devastating. </p><p>“It would only make things worse,” Betty says almost like she’s talking to herself. “We’d make each other more vulnerable and it would just add to all the problems-“</p><p>“Betty- hey,“ Jughead stops her gently, “- I just said a stupid thing. I’d never ask that of you given you even wanted me in the first place. I know what a huge risk you’ve taken and I’d never do anything to make it harder for you. I’m sorry I even said it.”</p><p>She takes a shuddering breath and nods. There’s a quiet kind of resignation between them. He senses her move.</p><p>“We should be getting back, it’s late. I’ll go first.”</p><p>“Stay a while longer,” he whispers. </p><p>She looks conflicted but shakes her head, “We should go.”</p><p>His heart sinks but he nods and watches her get up, dusting her clothes. She fidgets with the hem of her shirt, her fingers rubbing at the fabric and he wonders for the hundredth time what it would feel like to have them pressed against his pulse. He shakes his head and gets up too.</p><p>“Can we meet again?” He knows it’s no use asking but he can’t help it. Betty bites her lip and looks at him.</p><p>“I don’t think we should,” she says hesitantly.</p><p>“Not ever? What was the point of this?” </p><p>“I don’t know,” Betty shrugs defeatedly, “I’ve just been so alone for so long, and I saw you- and how much you’re struggling with it- I just wanted to reach out...but we can’t risk this again, it’s not worth the price. We just need to hold out for a cure.”</p><p>He swallows the impulse to protest and simply says, “Ok.” </p><p>She moves towards the door and he presses his back flat against the wall so she won’t brush past him. At the door she pauses and her entire posture seems tense.</p><p>“If it was possible in any way,” she says in a barely audible whisper, “I’d have wanted you...”</p><p>She’s gone before he can stop her and he falls back against the wall again, heartbeat a dull thud in his chest now. All his brain can fixate on is her parting sentence, but it’s a direct contradiction to what she’d been trying to tell him earlier. Nothing is worth the price they have to pay. All they can do is practice self control. </p><p>Practice self control at all costs. </p><p>He makes it back to A5 in time without incident. He carries out his routine like a good member of the Collective. Self control, he repeats in his mind. </p><p>In bed he thinks about Betty’s lips and her eyes and the number of times her skin had turned pink. He thinks about her touching herself and the sound she’d make when she came. He’s hard and he rubs himself, rough, long strokes that send pleasure shooting up his spine, the image of a naked Betty sharp and vivid behind his eyes. Self control be damned, he thinks as he pants her name when he comes.</p><p> </p><p>******</p><p> </p><p>Everything feels like a dream the next day. The hours stretch on and he finds himself unable to look away from her. The shades help, shielding his straying eyes so that no one notices but he can tell Betty is aware of his constant staring. She keeps to herself like always.</p><p>“Will you be working late again, Betty?” Trevor asks during lunch. Jughead is sitting separately like he does everyday but he can’t help listening to the conversation. </p><p>Betty waits a beat before she answers, “I’m not sure.”</p><p>“I admire your work ethic, Betty. I wish I had your kind of focus.”</p><p>Jughead steals a glance at her and notices the way Betty’s gripping her fork. They continue talking, moving on to other subjects but she barely contributes. He finishes his food and leaves.</p><p>Later when everyone is calling out goodbyes Betty lowers her head and doesn’t move. His eyes keep flitting towards her, wondering what she’s thinking. She told him they wouldn’t see each other again so surely the only reason she’s staying back is to finish her work. Jughead turns off his interface, too tired to even pretend he’s working and waits for Betty to leave.</p><p>She does eventually get up, and he almost sighs with relief. She’s leaving and he can now spend the rest of his miserable night without torturing himself that he missed a sign.</p><p>Only she doesn’t leave. </p><p>Jughead watches with a rapidly beating pulse as she takes a left turn and once again disappears in the direction of the bathrooms. He waits several minutes and then helplessly follows her.</p><p>She’s behind that little door again, eyes blown wide and chest heaving. He gently turns the lock and leans against the door for only a second before he’s walking towards her. </p><p>“You wouldn’t stop looking at me,” Betty whispers. Her hands are clenched as she looks up at him, something like an accusation in her eyes and Jughead realizes he’s so much taller than her. It awakens a strange hunger inside him.</p><p>“I couldn’t stop,” he returns simply.</p><p>“You can’t do that,” she reprimands harshly but her eyes settle on his lips, and then her voice softens, “I could feel them on me the whole time.”</p><p>He takes another step closer and now he’s almost looming over her, hardly a foot of space between them. Betty’s wide eyes are still fixed on him, like she can’t look away. He knows the feeling.</p><p>“Did it feel good?”</p><p>Betty's breath comes out in a sharp gasp and she shakes her head, like she’s struggling to overcome an intoxication.</p><p>“I don’t know,” she swallows, “it just- it felt wrong.”</p><p>“Liar,” Jughead murmurs and tips her chin up with a gentle finger. “Nothing’s felt more right. Admit it-“</p><p>He leans towards her. The space between them is rife with a strange desperation. A push and a pull. He thinks he’s been travelling all his life to reach this destination, this tiny space between their lips and heartbeats. </p><p>I love you, he thinks, I love you and I don’t even know what it means. </p><p>Her warm breath fans out over his face, her eyes fixed on the movement of his mouth. She’s waiting, waiting, waiting. She’s terrified. He’s falling and he’ll take her with him and he knows she’s afraid of how steep that fall may be. There’s one last plea in her eyes, when they meet his. They can still turn back, she’s saying, there’s no returning from where he’s leading her. He knows that. He’s known it since that first night when he followed her to this little space that now feels almost sacred. It’s no use. There was no returning ever. He burnt his boats and bridges long ago. </p><p>He presses his forehead to hers and senses the way her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt in a helpless betrayal, pulling him closer, reluctant, yet ever so willing.</p><p>“Betty,” he breathes and finally presses his mouth to hers. There is nothing tentative about the kiss. Not like the first time they’d touched each other with hesitant trembling fingers. This kiss is full of heat and want and he thinks he could just die of the pleasure coursing through him. She moans into his mouth, their tongues and teeth clumsy and unpractised and it’s like running a marathon. He feels light headed- elated and alive...this is what euphoria must feel like. In the embrace of her arms, and the mould of her tongue resides a universe and all that exists here is the softness and warmth of her mouth mingling with the yearning desire of his own. Theirs is the only reality that matters. </p><p>“We can’t do this Jughead-“ she almost sobs, “We’re going to get caught...”</p><p>He pulls her in for another kiss, stamping it hard against her mouth, “I’ll leave this minute if you tell me to. I won’t follow you, ever, I won’t look at you again, but you have to mean it, Betty. You can’t leave this door open and expect me not to walk in. Tell me and I’ll leave.”</p><p>Her fingers clutch his collar so tightly, he’s afraid she might tear through the fabric. She looks hopeless and afraid but she pulls him closer and rests her forehead against him.</p><p>“No,” she sighs defeatedly, “I don’t want you to leave. Stay.”</p><p> </p><p>It becomes a daily routine. They spend their days avoiding each other as much as they can, keeping up a wall of pretence and at nights they let their walls down and collapse into each other. They talk like they’ve known each other all their lives. Days pass in hours, seconds linger. Time becomes meaningless when she looks at him, laughs with him, speaks his name. Every night he has to force himself to walk away from her, even after hours spent in her company. </p><p>On some nights it feels like a chase, rushing headlong towards a terrible fate and he finds her reaching out for him like she’s afraid he’ll disappear.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re risking so much,” Betty whispers into the crook of his neck, her body trembling when he holds her tight. “This isn’t safe Jughead.”</p><p>“We’ll be ok,” he replies, his fingers straining with the effort to soothe her. “We won’t slip, it’s ok, it’s ok...”</p><p> </p><p>Some nights talking feels like a waste of precious minutes and time stops altogether; those are the moments he revisits most in his dreams. She lets him touch her, hesitant at first, every touch of skin against skin a question, igniting deep fires so that some days he thinks he might burn from the simple act of touching her face. She shudders, her breath catches, her whimpers are so pretty when he kisses her just beneath her jaw, her pulse fluttering like a trapped bird, his heartbeat like a raging storm.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m scared,” Betty pants into his mouth, her kisses clumsy and desperate when he presses his mouth to hers, “I’m so scared Jughead.”</p><p>“I know,” he says but makes no move to draw back, pulling her lower lip between his own and swallowing the pretty little moan that follows.</p><p> </p><p>She takes his hands and shows him the secrets of her soft, supple body so different from his own. She makes him trace his fingers along the dip of her throat, the swell of her breast, the gentle mound of her stomach. His fingers rest on the flesh of her hips, still clothed and he finds himself wondering what it would feel like to touch her skin without all these barriers. His fingers dig harder and she gasps, her sweet breath hot on his face and when he kisses her it’s with more want and desire than he knows what to do with, so he gives it to her, opening her lips, his tongue coaxing hers, licking along the roof of her mouth in a way that feels invasive and dirty and yet Betty returns it with just as much passion and need.</p><p>One night she lets him undo her buttons and touch her breasts. Some primal instinct takes over and he kisses her lips then bends and kisses her nipples, and without thinking suckles one in his mouth. Betty gasps but holds his face closer, her fingers gripping his hair almost urging him to take more. His own body responds immediately and he is hard, desperate to relieve the ache, to bury himself deep inside her and he thrusts against her in way that makes her look at him with her eyes blown wide, a deep flush on the skin of her exposed breasts, the indentation of his lips and teeth, stark in the dim blue light.</p><p>He spends the entirety of the next day wondering if those marks are still there on her chest and if they make her think of him and his mouth and his fingers.</p><p> </p><p>They talk about travelling to the space station on the new planet Tk 14 and what it would be like to start a new life there together. Betty tells him about her struggle with the disease, the loneliness and despair she had felt and yet the riveting ecstasy of feeling things to the fullest. Jughead tells her about the nightmares he still has, and how he often dreams of deep, dark forests.</p><p> </p><p>The first time she touches him, he has to stop her before things get messy. She stares at him curiously as he tries to bring his breathing back to normal. </p><p>“Let me,” Betty says but he shakes his head and kisses her instead. </p><p>He jerks off to the memory of her soft hands wrapped around his dick in the shower as soon as he reaches his room.</p><p> </p><p>The next time they kiss, she takes his hand and slowly pushes it lower. Her eyes are glazed, chest heaving and at any other time he would be drawn to this movement but then his fingers brush against her folds as she spreads her legs wider. She is soaked through her panties and pretty much every single thought flies out of the proverbial window. </p><p>Betty moans lowly, her head falling back against the wall and he pushes his fingers against her, completely dumbstruck at how wet and warm she is down there.</p><p>“More,” she pleads, “Please don’t stop-“</p><p>He continues to rub her, building up a friction, the small wet sounds of her body so utterly beguiling. She’s beginning to pant and he wants more.</p><p>“Is this ok?” He pushes first one then another finger inside her and her jaw slackens. </p><p>“Yes, yes-“ Betty breathes, eyes screwed shut as she tries to move her hips against his hand and Jughead nearly comes with this alone. Sharp pleasure uncoils deep in his belly as his fingers curl deeper inside her. Her whimpering gets louder.</p><p>“Shhh-“ he whispers, “let go Betty- it’s ok, just let go...”</p><p>She comes around his fingers, fluttering and clenching, her mouth a wide ‘o’ and Jughead thinks he’d die a happy man if this was the last thing he saw. She pushes his hand away finally and a soft laugh escapes her.</p><p>“It’s never been like this before-“ she murmurs shyly and when he hums in surprise, she flushes and adds, “Nothing has ever felt this good.”</p><p>He pulls her in a tight embrace, his fingers still wet from her, and kisses her long and slow, until she’s moaning in his mouth. They stand there, lost in each other’s presence and he feels at peace, like the entire world has slowed down to a snail’s pace and he has a lifetime to love this woman in his arms.</p><p> </p><p>It goes on for days, and slowly they begin to relax around the others. It’s risky and stupid, he knows that, but being near her affects him so much, it clouds his judgement. There are moments when he meets her eyes and even dares to touch her fleetingly as they pass each other and the thrill of it is unparalleled. She looks at him and her smiles have so much meaning behind them it’s hard not to feel lost. </p><p>It’s a dangerous game they’re playing and Jughead only realizes too late that it wasn’t going to last. </p><p>They’re sitting quietly one night, murmuring occasionally to each other amidst kisses as Betty rests her head on his shoulders, when someone enters the bathroom. They both freeze and Jughead can practically feel the galloping rhythm of Betty’s heart as she turns wide panicked eyes towards him, her mouth open in a terrified gasp. He holds a finger to his lips, gripping her hand tightly, and then very slowly gets up. Betty shakes her head at him, pleading him to stay put but Jughead knows they are bound to be discovered unless one of them immediately diffuses the situation. He signs at her to wait and then gently unlocks the door, letting it shut quietly behind him. </p><p>Fred is standing in front of the basin, washing his hands. He looks up in the mirror, meeting Jughead’s eyes. </p><p>“Ah, Jughead. I was wondering who was in there.”</p><p>“Hello, Fred.”</p><p>“I wasn’t expecting to see you here at this hour. You’re working late again?” Fred asks. His voice is only questioning, no hint of suspicion and yet Jughead feels a deep sense of unease settle over him.</p><p>“I am,” he says hoping his own voice sounds just as nonchalant, “I still get severe photophobia- the daylight can be overwhelming at times. It’s easier to work in the evenings.”</p><p>“Of course,” Fred nods smiling in sympathy, “It is strangely coincidental that Betty’s interface is open too. Were you looking through her work?”</p><p>Jughead’s heart sinks. For all the air of friendliness Fred is exuding his words are a thinly veiled threat. He either already knows that Betty is here or strongly suspects it. </p><p>He remains quiet.</p><p>Fred contemplates him seriously, “As your supervisor, I would be responsible to report any misconduct on your part. I can’t allow your presence to become a threat for someone’s safety, Jughead. You understand?”</p><p>“Of course, Fred.”</p><p>“These are hard times son. I wouldn’t want to make things harder for you. Of course my concerns would be nullified if any and all such...activities were to stop.” There’s that quiet note of warning again.</p><p>Jughead swallows, “You have my gratitude, Fred. Rest assured you will not have to worry. I’m sorry to have given you cause for concern.”</p><p>“Ah, that’s quite alright,” Fred says in his kind voice, “You’re a good man, Jughead. I know I can always count on you. Shall we?” Fred holds out his hand pointing in the direction of the exit and Jughead nods, willing himself not to let his eyes flicker towards the cubicle. He composes his face to match Fred’s calm smiling one and walks out of the bathroom accompanied by his supervisor.</p><p>Please be alright, he whispers in his heart as the door clicks shut behind them.</p><p> </p><p>******</p><p> </p><p>Fred watches him like a hawk the next day, something deeply disturbing about the gentle smile on his face and Jughead doesn’t dare to so much as breathe in Betty’s direction as she works on her interface, head bent down in concentration. She appears perfectly composed, but he can tell she’s worried simply from the tension that’s radiating from her body, calling out to him. </p><p>He’s hoping to warn her as soon as he can, but Fred calls Betty into his office during lunch break and he misses the opportunity. The rest of the day passes in a pretty similar manner and the only time he dares to address Betty, Donna stops by as well, asking him about his next doctor’s appointment and by the time she leaves, Fred’s watching them again.</p><p>It’s getting late by the time everyone bids goodbye, and he watches with a sinking heart as Betty walks away and then abruptly turns left instead of right, disappearing around the corner like she has ever since they started meeting.</p><p>Jughead stands there, feeling completely unable to make a decision. If he follows her and they get caught there is no doubt about what will happen to them. If he doesn’t, Betty will be left alone, wondering what’s wrong, worrying herself to death and as much as it kills him, he knows that’s what he should do. He can’t risk Fred finding him there again.</p><p>Almost as if on cue, Fred appears in the doorway, the same smile on his face as he observes Jughead.</p><p>“I think you should call it a day Jughead,” he says easily, “I’m heading out myself, why don’t you join me for a walk.”</p><p>Jughead thinks of Betty, huddled in their corner of the universe, wondering where he is and then looks at Fred, still waiting for his answer.</p><p>He forces out a smile and simply nods.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It’s two hours later, when she appears, her shoulders slumped in defeat, something just so sad about her profile, that it takes all of his will power not to walk up to her and crush her in his embrace. He’s sitting on a ledge by the river, near the road that leads to her residential complex and she tenses when her eyes fall on him.</p><p>She pauses, breaths shallow, then walks quietly towards him and leans against the ledge, crossing her arms in front of her, in a gesture that almost seems defensive. He stares ahead, trying to find the right words as she waits patiently, like a person awaiting their doom.</p><p>The silence between them stretches endlessly until finally Jughead says, “He knows.” </p><p>Betty nods, her eyes downcast. Even when she’s standing six feet away, he’s so aware of her every move, the slight trembling of her lips, the way her hands are half curled into her palms, the way her entire body is wound tight like a coil. He wants nothing more than to cross this small distance and wrap his arms around her. He grips the edges of the railing tighter.</p><p>“What are we going to do?” She asks finally in a broken whisper. He knows without looking she’s crying and it stings suddenly how completely numb he feels. </p><p>Jughead shrugs, “Nothing. We’re just going to stop seeing each other. Fred’s already asked me to send in a request for change of position with transfer immediately. He has a position ready for me in ‘Growth and Produce’.”</p><p>“What!?” She turns towards him and Jughead’s heart clenches painfully at the sight of her tear stricken face. “Why? You can’t just give up your job! Positions at Atmos are highly coveted, you know that. We’ll stop. We’ll go back to how it was before. I swear we’ll-“</p><p>“It’s no use, Betty,” he sighs wearily, “I can’t. I can’t stop looking at you. I can’t be near you and not want you. I don’t have that kind of self control. Fred doesn’t know what’s going on yet, but he knows enough to be able to connect the dots and link them to you if I slip even once. I can’t put you in that kind of danger.”</p><p>She swallows her tears and closes her eyes. They sit there in silence and he wishes he could just fade away like the light around him, disappear into nothingness with her. Anything would be better than the pain of this imminent separation.</p><p>“So that’s it? You start this thing with me and now that it’s no longer convenient you end it?”</p><p>“It’s not about it being convenient-“ he snaps sharply and flinches at the way she recoils at his tone. Something breaks inside him, like he just twisted something tender and destroyed it. He sighs and continues, careful to keep his voice gentle, “It’s about it being unsafe for us. I know you said the same thing to me before we started, Betty, but there was no immediate threat and I fooled myself. I can’t do that now...not when Fred knows and the threat is real.”</p><p>She presses her mouth in a thin line and shrugs but doesn’t respond.</p><p>“I’m going to start my meds again,” he says eventually. Betty’s looking away and it’s only from the shaking of her hands that he can tell she’s still listening to him. </p><p>“I think it’s best to focus on trying to function as normally as we can and hold on for a cure,” he continues then adds hesitantly, “I think you should see a doctor too, Betty.”</p><p>She scoffs, “Or what? You’re going to report me?”</p><p>“No,” he answers calmly. He knows she’s trying to rile him up. It’s strange how their roles have reversed. He’s the pacifier now, dealing with a petulant child. “You have to know, Betty, that I could never hurt you. I’m doing this to keep you safe. It’s too much of a risk and I can’t put you in that kind of danger. I’m just trying to help you.”</p><p>“I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help. I did fine on my own for almost two years before you came along. The most you can do for me is keep my secret. I hope you find whatever cure you’re looking for,” she pauses and then looks at him directly, eyes devoid of all emotion. “I hope I never have to see you again.”</p><p>He stares at her in stunned silence as she pushes herself away from the wall and walks past him, her face pinched and brittle, still tear stained. He watches her as she gets smaller and smaller until she disappears around one of the bends. </p><p>There’s a strangely suffocating, dull ache behind his sternum unlike any of the feelings he’s experienced before. It feels like his heart is lodged somewhere in the pit of his stomach and he realizes this is what Dr. Curdle meant when he explained to him about the progress of the disease. </p><p>This is what it’s like to experience grief. He must have progressed to stage two.</p><p> </p><p>******</p><p> </p><p>His new supervisor at work is a woman named Sierra, who reminds him strangely of Fred. She’s kind and sympathetic as she welcomes him to the greenhouse, telling him about the basics of planting and nurturing the seedlings. There are fifteen other people in his section, but they rarely interact and Jughead can see why Fred had suggested he should start work at ‘Growth and Produce’. It’s quiet and peaceful, and he rarely finds himself distracted by thoughts when he’s so focused in cultivating and caring for his plants. </p><p>It gets better. Or at least he thinks it does. There’s something soothing about the quiet perseverance of nature, it’s gentle awakening every time a new seed takes root, the promising continuity of growth and life. He finds some of his constant grief resolving as he learns to nurture the plants he is surrounded by all day. His fingers miss the hold of a sketching pen, but his mind feels less fractured now. Betty’s face becomes a soft memory, still longed for and precious, but no longer a persistent ache behind his sternum.</p><p>He tends to take his medicines on most days now, only missing them on days when his depression gets the best of him. Nothing feels rebellious about it now, when he watches the pills flow down the drain. If anything it feels like a failure.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He’s at the pharmacy one night, for a refill of his prescription when a familiar looking man calls out to him.</p><p>“Jughead, right?”</p><p>He squints in the dark at the man and suddenly remembers.</p><p>"Jason?”</p><p>“Yeah. How are you?”</p><p>He’s been asked that question so many times over the last few days but not once with so much genuine concern and Jughead’s expression falters.</p><p>“You okay?” Jason asks gently and Jughead lets out a shaky breath.</p><p>“I suppose. As okay as one can be.”</p><p>“You want to take a walk?”</p><p>His first instinct is to refuse, but Jason’s still looking at him and, for once, instead of pity there’s understanding.</p><p>“Yeah,” he says shrugging. “Why not.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>They end up in the old amphitheatre, walking up and down the steps as Jughead tells Jason about his diagnosis, his struggle with SOS and more than anything else, about Betty.</p><p>“I just miss her, I guess,” he says hesitantly, when they take a seat, facing the huge stage below them. There’s a wind blowing and the soft sound of crickets, the grass delightfully unkempt in some places. He loves coming to this old place, half forgotten, the remnant of a civilization they hold in so much disdain now. All they’ve read about those people are the horrors of war and madness, but surely men who built such places had beauty in their hearts too.</p><p>Jason sighs, “That’s the hardest part.”</p><p>“Yeah, I didn’t think I’d lose her so soon,” he continues, “We were tripping up and I couldn’t even see it, I just felt so reckless around her, like nothing else mattered.”</p><p>“You were in love with her,” Jason says. “You did the right thing though. Dealing with this disease is hard enough on it’s own. Coupling would have made it more unbearable.”</p><p>He looks across the amphitheatre, something bitter about his expression. </p><p>“I got involved with a woman, too. It was a while ago but it didn’t end well,” he swallows, his eyes guarded and shuttered. </p><p>Jughead’s too afraid to ask what he means but he nods and says, “I’m sorry.”</p><p>They sit quietly for sometime, both preoccupied with their own thoughts until Jason asks, “What stage was she? Your friend?” </p><p>Jughead shrugs, “She was self diagnosed. She’s had it for a year and a half though, so I guess it may be stage four by now. I don’t know how she’s managed it, honestly.”</p><p>“She’s a hider,” Jason muses, “Those people are just wired differently. I can’t imagine the kind of discipline that would be required to keep up an act. I’d collapse without the meds. Missing a dose here and there, sure, but I can’t really go without them indefinitely.”</p><p>“Yeah, me neither,” Jughead says.</p><p>“I have a friend who’s a hider, a doctor who works in the DEN, no less. We have a support group with some other people, all different stages. It helps to talk about it, just vent sometimes. You should come.”</p><p>“Yeah?” He asks hopefully and Jason nods.</p><p>“Everyone is always a little hesitant with new people, it’s an added risk, but I’ll vouch for you. I’ll let you know soon.”</p><p>“Thanks, Jason,” Jughead says as he gets up to leave.</p><p>“Least I could do. Take care, Jughead. Keep safe,” the man walks off leaving him feeling lonelier than he’s felt in the last few weeks.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>His conversation with Jason lingers, and he replays it often in his head over the next few days, thinking about Betty and about Jason’s offer to get him into the support group. He wishes he could see her again, if only for a minute to tell her she should try and reach out to someone, too, someone other than him of course, someone who might actually help her deal with the disease better. </p><p>He has actively avoided thinking about her for so long that it’s somewhat of a shock to his system when he catches sight of her one day. He’s walking to the residential complex, late in the evening when he finds her sitting on that same ledge beside the river where they had talked for the last time. She’s either reading or writing in a book, he can’t tell from the distance but there’s a man standing close to her talking animatedly and the sheer force of the pain that shoots through him at the sight of them is so crippling it stops him in his tracks. </p><p>It’s like a punch to the gut. </p><p>He stands frozen there, unable to walk away and, finally, as if drawn by his gaze, Betty looks up at him. For a second the whole world stops. She holds his gaze, her eyes hungry and raw, the intense longing he’s felt reciprocated in them, and then, as if remembering herself, looks away, expression strained.</p><p>He immediately turns around and walks back to the greenhouse and spends the next three hours digging aggressively until he has a whole new row of herbs planted, refusing to let his mind fixate on anything other than the dark soil in his hands. </p><p>He gets home sweaty and exhausted and strips off his work overalls in the shower, turning the temperature up. His entire body feels tense beyond measure and he knows what he’s experiencing is jealousy. He’s angry and depressed and it’s overwhelming how much he wants to bang his fists on the wall and pretend it’s that smug bastard’s face instead.</p><p>He draws back shocked. It’s such an invasive thought and so unlike him. He can’t believe he’d even think about perpetuating an act of such violence against an unsuspecting man, completely innocent but for the fact that he’d spoken to a woman Jughead still harbours feelings for. Feelings that are completely illegal to begin with. </p><p>He takes his face in his hands heaving, as nausea roils in his stomach. This is what SOS does. It turns people into animals, bloodthirsty and vengeful. He can’t get her face out of his mind. He can’t stop thinking about her. He thought he’d been getting better, he was so sure that putting distance between them would make it easier. All it’s taken for that false hope to come crashing is one look at her lovely face. </p><p>He stands under the water until his skin begins to feel numb. Outside, he dries himself and puts on a pair of pyjama pants and then, skipping dinner for the first time in three weeks, simply drops on his bed and falls into a restless sleep.</p><p>He dreams again of the forest fire that night but this time he’s the one watching from the woods while Betty burns.</p><p> </p><p>******</p><p> </p><p>Jason’s waiting for him near the greenhouse, a few days later when he walks in for work.</p><p>“We have a meeting tonight,” he tells Jughead quietly, already moving towards the exit door before someone can see them together. “I left the address on a paper near the roses. Make sure no one’s following you.”</p><p>Jason’s gone before he can ask him any more questions, so he hurries towards the rose garden and sure enough, there’s a little folded paper stuffed in one of the empty pots. It’s the address of an old abandoned warehouse and something like hope reawakens inside him at the prospect of meeting other people like himself. </p><p>He memorizes the address and then sets to work after tearing the paper into tiny pieces and letting them scatter in the wind. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It’s late in the evening when he gets off from work. He bids Sierra goodbye, dropping his gardening tools in the work shed and then, instead of taking the usual route to A5, heads in the direction of the warehouse.</p><p>It’s an empty road, but he keeps glancing around furtively to make sure no one’s following him. It takes almost forty minutes and he’s well on the outskirts of the city when the warehouse looms in front of him suddenly as he takes a right turn, it’s paint peeling and the window panes dirty and broken, so far removed from the immaculate, clean cut buildings he’s used to.</p><p>He knocks several times on the door, until someone unbolts and opens it.</p><p>“Jughead?” a woman asks. She’s short, with dark brown eyes that are currently focused on him intensely. He nods.</p><p>“Come on in,” she says beckoning him towards another door. He follows her into a dimly lit, dusty room where several people are gathered around in a circle, deep in conversation. Jason looks up and waves at him.</p><p>“Jughead you came! Everyone, this is the guy I was telling you about,” Jason says, patting the chair next to him and Jughead sits down nodding. “Jughead, that’s Pop, Kevin, Fangs, Dr. Mary, and Toni, both hiders like your friend. The rest of us are registered patients. We were just getting started...”</p><p>They exchange hellos, welcoming him.</p><p>“Go on, Fangs,” Toni says, taking a seat next to Pop, once everyone has settled again.</p><p>The man named Fangs swallows and resumes talking in a nervous, low voice, “I kept thinking he knows, he can tell I’m missing my meds, he’s going to report me. God, I wanted to sit down and come clean but I don’t want to go to the DEN. I don’t, I just-“</p><p>“Hey,” the man named Kevin puts a hand on his arm and squeezes reassuringly, “We’ve all been in this situation, it’s not your fault-“</p><p>“I don’t want to go to the DEN-” Fangs repeats covering his face with his hands and before he can think Jughead blurts out, “What happens in the DEN?”</p><p>Eight pairs of eyes focus on him, their expressions varying from bemused to depressed and Jughead flushes.</p><p>“I mean I- I know the basics but do they just electrocute you as soon as you get there?”</p><p>Jason looks towards the attractive looking, middle aged woman he’d introduced as Dr. Mary, “Mary, maybe you’d be best equipped to answer Jughead.”</p><p>The woman nods and looks at him, “No one is electrocuted upon admission, of course. People are isolated completely. No one talks to you, no one acknowledges you. It’s just you and the four walls of the cell. Most people commit suicide within the first two weeks. The staff encourage it, even stand by to watch. It’s the preferred method anyway, compared to the electro-restraints and other methods of treatment,” she pauses and looks at him with a soft understanding. “But, there is value in living, being a hider reminds me of that everyday.”</p><p>“I don’t know how you do it,” Toni says quietly, “I can’t imagine what you must go through in that hell hole.”</p><p>“It’s hard to look at all that misery and not be moved,” Mary says. “But it also lets me be there for people in their darkest times. Sometimes just looking someone in the eyes and acknowledging their pain can make a world of difference, make them less lonely, give them hope. But under no circumstances can I interfere. I have to keep reminding myself, I can’t risk my job, I can’t risk my life. I guess I just have to let some things go...”</p><p>“Why put yourself through all that?” Jughead asks. “You could easily be reassigned, why do something with so much risk?”</p><p>Mary sighs and shrugs, “Maybe because I’d rather be with people who feel, who feel intensely. As awful as it is, I can’t help but be grateful for the connection I’ve made with people, the love I’ve felt for them. It reminds me who I am and why I choose to live and struggle.”</p><p>“I can’t say you’re wrong,” the kind faced man named Pop says, “I don’t believe all their research. Not a word of it. Feelings engender feelings, SOS ain’t even a disease, it’s the switching off they do sometime between conception and birth that’s wrong. Switched on is the natural state of being. The inhibitors are only another way to squash that too...” </p><p>“I don’t know man,” Fangs says taking a shuddering breath as Kevin moves closer to him, “I just, It’s so damn lonely. At least with the inhibitors I could get by, but now- I just want to go back to feeling nothing. I just want to be free of this constant grief-“</p><p>It’s quiet in the room after that, like everyone has suddenly remembered that they are, in fact, just a group of really lonely people amongst millions of those who are blissfully unaware of the tiresome burden of emotions. </p><p>They stay there for another two hours, sharing their experiences and listening to each other vent out some of their frustrations. It’s late by the time Jughead thanks everyone and leaves as Jason walks him to the door.</p><p>“Take care, Jughead. Stay strong,” he says before disappearing in the opposite direction. Jughead stands there staring after him for a long time, all the while thinking of another lonely woman that he can’t get out of his head, who is so close to him in this city and yet completely out of reach.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Dr. Curdle tells him about a vaccine that is being tested and is expected to completely revolutionize the treatment of SOS when he visits him at his next appointment.</p><p>“You’re only stage two,” he says, voice monotonous, although his eyes seem to sparkle with interest, “There’s a good chance they’ll be able to test it on patients with positive results soon. Someone with a good immune system like yours would be the perfect candidate.”</p><p>Jughead nods but chooses not to answer. The doctor asks him a few more questions and then renews his prescription as usual. Jughead tries not to flinch guiltily when he holds out his hand to take it.</p><p>He thinks about the miraculous cure Dr. Curdle is so excited for and whether it truly would work. It seems like such a faraway dream, blurred and vague, this elusive cure.</p><p>He wonders why he can’t bring himself to feel more excited by the prospect of a cure, the cure that will finally make him normal again. Pop’s words echo in his mind as he makes dinner, the way the old man had declared that switched on was the normal way of living. He thinks about what he’s felt and still feels for Betty and the deep longing in his gut to be with her. It seems impossible to once again become a part of a world that would no longer enable him to feel all that love for her.</p><p>He’s still lost in his thoughts, eating his food when it happens. There’s a quiet knock at his door and at first he thinks he must have imagined it. There is a penalty for visiting anyone at their residence and any official visit is always notified beforehand. He’s had an officer on monthly visits since his diagnosis, to make sure he’s maintaining all required rules of hygiene and housekeeping.</p><p>He’s thinking about dumping the rest of his dinner in the trash and turning in for the night when it happens again and this time it’s no use pretending he’s imagining it. It’s there, a quite tentative knocking that’s consistently becoming louder. He gets up heart thumping and picks up the knife he’d been using to slice his vegetables. If this is the end, and they’re here for him, he’s not going to go down without a fight.</p><p>He waits a beat, ear pressed against his door. The person outside is breathing loudly and Jughead finally pulls the door open, hoping to catch whoever it is off their guard- and he does- as a startled looking Betty nearly stumbles and falls. Jughead lets out a surprised gasp, eyes widening in shock as she steadies herself, finally meeting his eyes.</p><p>She looks...haggard. Drawn- no less beautiful to his lover’s eyes- but her once radiant skin looks pale, the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced than ever. She’s breathing heavily and before he can think twice, he grips her arm and pulls her inside. She stumbles and then stills, looking around wildly like she can’t believe where she is. Jughead steps out of his apartment and looks either way of the corridor. There’s no one. No sign that anyone’s seen her. He lets out a relieved breath and comes back inside, bolting the door and setting all the alarms.</p><p>Betty’s standing in front of the large glass wall, facing away from him, shoulders hunched. She’s shivering uncontrollably and he approaches her warily, his heart torn in relief and grief and so many emotions he thinks he’s going to have an aneurysm. </p><p>“Betty,” he whispers. He touches her shoulder gently, so much longing in that simple brush of skin against skin that he thinks she must feel it. </p><p>She whirls around and before he knows what’s happening, delivers a resounding slap on his face. He draws back shocked, the sting of it burning his cheek but she’s not done apparently. She pushes at him, beating his chest with her small hands in a manner that is vicious and yet completely helpless.</p><p>“I hate you!” She spits out still beating her clenched fists furiously at him, while he struggles to stop her, trying to restrain her in his arms.</p><p>“Stop! Betty! Hey-“</p><p>“I hate you so much!” she snarls again, angry tears streaming down her face. She’s panting from the force of her struggle, trying to twist and free herself from his arms, “I hate you so much it’s hard to breathe! I wish I’d never met you!”</p><p>He finally manages to cage her arms between his own and she slumps suddenly breaking into heart-wrenching, uncontrollable sobs, her hands now clutching at his shirt as she takes loud, gasping breaths amidst her crying.</p><p>“It’s ok. It’s ok. It’s ok I’m here...” Jughead keeps murmuring, brushing his lips against her forehead, her nose, her temples, his fingers caressing her back. She’s still crying, the loud sobbing now replaced by small hiccups. Her breath is hot against the skin of his throat and he pulls her closer.</p><p>“I can’t do it,” she whispers brokenly, “I tried. God knows I’ve tried, Jughead, but I can’t.”</p><p>“I know,” he answers quietly, his mouth pressed into her hair, “I know.”</p><p>“Didn’t you miss me?” His heart clenches at the raw grief in her voice. “I missed you so much I could barely stand it, didn’t you miss me?”</p><p>She starts crying again and because there is no other form of comfort he can give her, because he can’t just rip out his heart and hers and crush them, he does the only thing he knows he can do.</p><p>He tilts her chin up and kisses her. Betty gasps and freezes and then, as he deepens the kiss, she starts kissing him back feverishly, like he’s breathing air into her and she’d been suffocating all this time. Her hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer and he has no idea how but they end up on the floor, Betty straddling his lap, whimpered sobs still wracking her body, his mouth swallowing them whole. </p><p>They draw back for air. Her eyes are glazed over, pupils blown wide and she’s the one that leans in to kiss him again. Jughead stills when she starts unbuttoning his shirt and draws back gently, catching her hands in both of his.</p><p>“Betty,” He says quietly but she simply shakes her head. Her face is still wet with tears as she tries to push his hands away and then suddenly bends and starts kissing his throat. Heat erupts within his abdomen and thrums in his veins, his mouth falling slack at the pleasure she draws from him with the slightest of touches. </p><p>He doesn’t stop her when she starts unbuttoning her own shirt but rather his hands move to help her. It’s a frenzied motion, his instincts taking over as soon as her shirt comes off. He’s fought against himself for so long and he’s just tired of pretending that he doesn’t miss her, that he doesn’t want her with every fibre of his being, every second of his day.</p><p>They seem to have reached the same conclusion because there is no resistance as they peel off their layers until it’s just his skin against hers, the sharp hiss of a building pleasure between them that threatens to consume him. </p><p>“Love me,” Betty breathes into his mouth as she falls back on the hard wooden floor, taking him with her, her legs wrapped around his hips. “Love me, Jughead. Please, please, please.”</p><p>She’s so beautiful, so warm and pliant and real under his touch starved hands. His fingertips ghost over her cheeks, cradling her jaw and she pulls him closer, her eyes fixed on him like she’s trying to memorize every tiny detail. She kisses his forehead, his eyes, tracing the contours of his face and then presses her mouth to his once more as her arms come around him.</p><p>He pulls off her hair tie, and runs his fingers through her hair, gripping it and pulling her head back. He kisses all the lovely skin of her neck and licks a strip down to her collarbones. She’s lost weight, the delicacy of her bones in stark contrast to his own larger frame and he feels such a rush of tender longing for her. He’s touching her and all he can think is what if it’s the last time.</p><p>She senses the faltering movement of his hands and she makes him cup her breasts as she pushes her hips into his own.</p><p>“Be here with me,” she whispers desperately. “Don’t stop, don’t think. Just be with me. Take this with me.”</p><p>He’s hard against her and there’s so much wet warmth between them, the way she seems to just envelope him so that everything else disappears.</p><p>“I want it to be good for you,” he pants between kisses as he fondles her breasts, making her moan.</p><p>“It will be,” Betty promises, guiding him. The lush heat of her is so inviting and then he’s inside her. Everything narrows down to that single point of contact where he’s joined with her and for a second he thinks he might just die from the sheer pleasure of this coupling. </p><p>“Move,” Betty says, her lips barely moving, eyes blown wide. She’s trembling.</p><p>“Is this good for you?” he repeats. He tries to go slow, every muscle in his body pulled taut as he moves inside her. Betty nods and smiles as she pulls her legs higher up and Jughead gasps as he slips deeper inside her. She pulls his mouth down to kiss him again and the tightly wound knot of intense heat and burning pleasure coils tighter. They move in tandem and she seems to draw him deeper, and it keeps building, going up, up, up until suddenly they’re falling off the edge and everything becomes a blur of joy, and warmth and intense liquid heat that seems to set his very nerves on fire. </p><p>He collapses on top of her and she cradles him in her arms, dropping soft kisses on his hair, his temples, his eyes. Everything feels loose and there’s a sweet ache in his bones, the whole world seems to have stopped as the aftershocks of his delicious pleasure continue to shoot up his spine. Betty is smiling, he can tell it from the way her lips are curved into his skin and a laugh bubbles up inside him, joyful and full of hope. </p><p>“I’m never letting you go again,” he murmurs against the skin of her throat. “Whatever happens we’ll face it together.”</p><p>“Together,” she promises and tightens the hold of her fingers against him.</p><p>Tbc</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey Everyone! Remember me? Yeah I know it's been more than two months and this chapter took forever to write but I'm done and it's here so buckle up! </p>
<p>Fair warning, this one is a bumpy ride! It's going to get angsty and then angstier BUT (SPOILER!) they do get a happy ending...so please bear with me! For those of you who've watched the movie 'Equals'...the conclusion might come as a surprise:p</p>
<p>Trigger warnings for mentions of pregnancy, abortion, and forced drug infusions! Like I said...it's going to get a little crazy but I promise I won't leave you hanging! It got to 17 k only because I wanted to end it on a happy note lol! Ok I'm going to stop and let you dig in now...enjoy my lovelies!</p>
<p>As always a million thankyous to my darling beta and friend @jjonesin4 for taking the time to make thie work better! I love you Lana baby! You're the best!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He’s beautiful as he sleeps beside her and Betty sighs quietly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She remembers the beginning stages of the disease when it first hit her, this overwhelming realization that the man she had been working with for nearly three years possessed so much beauty and that she had been blind to it. She remembers feeling so flustered in his presence every time he would talk to her or turn his lovely blue eyes towards her, remembers the way she taught herself over weeks and weeks of practice, not to look at him, to stay calm when he stood so close, not ever to seek him out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She remembers praying to whatever unknown deity was out there to cure her of this foolish lovesickness because it was risky and stupid and nothing hurt more than his indifferent pale gaze every time he looked her way. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She remembers the exact moment all that had changed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That first time he had looked at her and she’d felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen</span>
  </em>
  <span>, like a flower that suddenly blooms in the light after being kept in the dark too long. He’d looked at her like he was waking up from a dream, at first confused and alarmed by everything about her, but then, slowly like he had realized she was his only hope and anchor in the middle of a storm, and eventually with the same hunger and want she’d felt for him for so long.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s so beautiful as he sleeps in her arms now; a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead, his eyelashes so surprisingly pretty, the dark circles beneath his lids so tender. She wants him so much even now when he’s right next to her, wants him in all the ways a person can want another, wants him always like this, with all their cautions thrown to the wind, their walls broken down, their hearts beating in sync with his skin bare against hers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She traces the tip of her finger along his shoulder, down his forearm, humming at the way the muscle feels beneath her fingertips, warm and solid and real. It makes her almost giddy, the freedom to touch him like this.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” he murmurs without opening his eyes and her hands still their gentle exploring. She can hear the smile in his voice, despite how scratchy it is from sleep.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Betty whispers, unable to stop her own smile as he opens one eye, squinting at her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What time is it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She sighs, “Almost three. I should get going.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead pushes himself up on his elbows, rubbing a sleepy hand across his face. His hair keeps falling in his eyes and it makes him look so young. She wants nothing more than to curl around him and sleep some more.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stay a while,” he rasps out and reaches out to tuck a lock of stray hair behind her ear. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s so easy to fall under his spell, so easy and so dangerous Betty thinks as she nods. All he has to do is ask and she’s putty in his hands. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you sleep?” he asks her and she nods again smiling as he lies down once more, but this time pulling her even closer so that her body is flush against his. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I haven’t slept this well in ages,” he muses, his fingers still running through her hair and she feels that same giddy feeling overtake her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You haven’t?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No-” he pauses smiling, “- but with you here now, I can barely keep my eyes open.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty giggles until his eyes turn serious.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I missed you, Betty,” Jughead says and suddenly she can’t breathe around the lump in her throat, transfixed by the way he’s looking at her. “I thought about you every day, all the time. I kept wondering how you were, if you’d stopped thinking about me. It was like a constant ache…I tried so hard to get over you. I kept thinking all I had to do was keep myself busy, and it helped for a while, but then I saw you that one time by the river and I just-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He takes a shuddering breath, his eyes far-away, “- It just hit me there was no going back…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s quiet for a moment, thinking about those desperate weeks and then eventually murmurs, “Why didn’t you try to see me? I was so sure you’d- you’d come back but I kept waiting and you never came-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“-I couldn’t,” he responds, his fingers biting unconsciously into the skin of her arms like he’s trying to make her understand, “I was so afraid I’d get you caught. I wish I could tell you how completely hopeless I felt when you walked away that night, Betty-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She sighs closing her eyes. They could lie here and bemoan the time they’ve lost and all those nights of grief they’ve endured but he’s here now, in the flesh, and she still has half an hour before she actually has to start worrying about walking to her apartment in the middle of the night without being noticed. She turns to him fully, her leg hitching up to lie across his, and cups his face in both her hands. His eyes widen almost in surprise right before she presses her lips to his.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she breathes against his mouth, “We’re here now. That’s all that matters.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Jughead whispers, “So what do we do now?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty shrugs, the movement pushing her breasts against his chest and she can already feel the wetness between her legs in response to his proximity, “We spend as much time as we can here, we go to work, act normal, and then at night-“ </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s half hard against her thigh and she knows all it will take is a few pumps to have him ready. She kisses him again, softly biting his lip as he moans in her mouth and slowly pushes him flat on his back, straddling his hips. They’re on his mattress, on the kitchen floor behind the counter- the only place they had felt safe enough to sleep entangled in each others arms- and she feels drunk suddenly, powerful and vibrant, the whole world at the tip of her fingers when he’s looking at her like that, his eyes blown wide, his jaw slack, those muscles in his neck pulled taut when she lowers herself onto him. He hisses in pleasure and grips her hips as she begins to move.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“-at night we come together again like this-“ she pants as a slow ascending wave begins to build deep inside her and his hold on her tightens. The stretch of him inside her still hurts a little, but she wants it, she wants him everywhere, for now and forever. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Forever</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thinks when she comes, the pleasure pulsing within her like waves as she moans and his movements beneath her become choppier and messy as he thrusts upwards roughly, chasing his own climax.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Later Jughead watches her quietly as she dresses and pulls her hair in a ponytail. It’s still dark outside but it’ll be dawn by the time she reaches her place and something like worry is beginning to gnaw at her mind. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll see you again tonight?” Jughead asks following her to the door as she unlocks it, trying to make as little sound as possible. Betty turns to find him looking at her, eyes so intently focused on her and it makes her heart do a funny little flip.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” she answers softly, pressing her mouth to his lips one last time before she slips out, “tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He locks the door behind her as she walks quietly through the dimly lit corridor and down the stairs that lead to the main entrance. Outside the air is crisp and faint streaks of light are coloring the sky as she half jogs towards the route that leads to J6. Her heart rate picks up every time there’s a small sound, but it’s only the world around her beginning to wake up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Somewhere to her right a blackbird breaks into song, clear and bright and sweet, welcoming a new day. A new start. She thinks of Jughead in his bed, his hair rumpled from their lovemaking, and smiles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>******</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Time becomes a mystery hard to decipher as once more it begins to stretch and bend, then quicken and flee depending on what part of the day it is. Her mornings are always busy as she finds her bearings once more, no longer adrift in a hopeless sea of wooden faces. Fred notices and shares his relief as the quality of her work improves. She wonders sometimes if perhaps Fred is a hider like herself. She’s found it hard to forgive him for sending away Jughead but she’s noticed he has been overly protective of her in the last few weeks, very subtly drawing away attention from her, even on her worst days. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead is back in her life and it’s the happiest she has ever been. Her energy flows in ways that makes her new co-worker, Brett, raise his eyebrows. She doesn’t particularly like him (she will never admit the fact that she partly resents him for being the person Jughead was replaced with) and it feels good to tell him, complacent smile in place, that she’s ahead of him in her articles once more and he needs to keep up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The world around her continues to move on and Betty keeps up her facade, performing her duties like the perfect citizen, always patient, always kind, never too involved. The emotional suppression she has to practice during the day sometimes feels like too much of a burden, especially now that her heart feels more alive than it has ever felt before. The memory of Jughead’s warm kisses is a sweet distraction but she manages through sheer force of will to function without betraying her inner thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And every night, when the world around them sleeps, she lets him undo her in his bed, pulling her apart cell by cell, atom by atom, until she’s a writhing mess of exposed nerve endings. Only at night, with her hand on his heart, does she really live.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re making dinner one night when she asks him about his childhood.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you always have these moles on your face?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. A boy in my dorm once used a sharpie to connect them all. We got punished for it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty laughs and he winks at her as he stirs the vegetables.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you look like? Were you always this pretty?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s teasing him but the tips of his ears turn pink to her delight.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I was the scrawniest, scruffiest, lankiest kid you ever saw. What about you? Were you always this pretty?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty puts down the knife she’d been chopping the garlic with and walks up to him, hugging him from behind while he’s still facing away. She drops a kiss on his shoulder and sighs at the way his skin feels against her lips.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I was fat and pudgy and the Sisters would do my hair up in pigtails. You wouldn’t have looked at me twice with your pretty moles and your pretty eyes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He turns around and picks her up so quickly she gasps out in surprise, giggling in delight as he places her on the kitchen counter and kisses her cheek.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There is no universe where I wouldn’t be infatuated with you, Betty. Now sit here like a good girl before you make me burn our dinner!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some nights Jughead undoes her hair from it’s trusty ponytail and massages her scalp while she’s lying with her head on his lap. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s reading an account on the extraction of superfluids from neutron stars and it’s quiet between them as he doodles a sketch with his other hand. It’s 11:30 pm and it feels like Betty has hours and hours before she has to get up and leave.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What subject did you like the most?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He looks up from his sketch, his fingers stilling in her hair as he thinks about the question. “I used to like history. And art.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I also liked those school trips and going to the war museum.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he laughs at the way her eyes crinkle in distaste, “all the boys did. We’d be in line to see those demos on how they dropped the bombs and wiped out the cities.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Barbaric,” she mutters and he laughs again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The clock reads 11:38 pm and she closes her eyes to the sound of his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes they make slow love on his couch and later lie there lost in their little bubble of want, ghosting fingers over each other’s heartbeats.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She traces the beauty spots on his chest, whispering softly that she wishes she had a sharpie. Jughead chuckles and pinches her cheek. She tells him about Brett’s latest annoying comments on her work and he tells her about Dr. Curdle’s constant obsession with the vaccine trial that’s being conducted and his continued refusal to play guinea pig. Like most days they come back to asking questions about each other and sharing tidbits about their childhoods. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you always want to write?” Jughead asks and Betty nods.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. My teacher at the institution never liked my stories, but I would write whenever I could. I hid some of them in a loose floorboard beneath the bed in my dorm, but Sister Helen found them and had them burned. It broke my heart. It’s strange, but that’s a memory that never gets old. I remember when I first started feeling, it hit me so hard one night and I cried and cried. Isn’t that crazy? I cried over something I’d lost almost a decade ago, but it was like my grief had been waiting for an outlet, and the minute it sensed my mind weaken, it just ate its way out of me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead sighs, “I wish you hadn’t lost them. I wish you somehow got to keep your stories.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A lump forms in her throat but she shrugs, smiling wistfully, “It doesn’t matter now. I did get to write again, the stubborn little girl in me got to write her stories even if it is speculative non-fiction.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m happy that stubborn little girl is still thriving,” he says fondly, his eyes crinkled in a soft smile, “I have to thank her for leading you back to me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead lowers his eyes and Betty tries not to feel self conscious when his gaze lingers on her lips, her neck and finally her breasts. He grips her hands when she moves to cover herself and she can feel the way her heartbeat spikes immediately. His eyes are so dark, the blue almost gone and it stirs that deep want inside her, the way he’s looking at her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re exquisite,” he murmurs, pushing her gently on her back as he hovers over her. “I look at you and everything inside my head narrows down to only you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He begins kissing his way down her body, licking and sucking at her breasts and then lower, his hands roaming freely in a way that drives her mad with desire. She’s panting loudly, it’s almost shameful how wet she feels between her legs, considering he’d just made her come not half an hour ago, but she can’t help it. She feels him press his mouth lower and instinctively widens her legs. Even then, the sudden warmth of his tongue against her center comes as a shock and she cries out in surprise, trying to push his face away. Jughead simply clasps her hands and pulls them on either side of her, dropping an open mouthed kiss right over her clit. She whimpers from the sheer pleasure of it; it’s almost too much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please,” Betty moans- she can feel the tightness building inside herself as he takes her higher and higher, “please, please, please…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>******</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Donna and Ethel comment on how much she’s glowing every day as she turns off her interface one evening, already smiling to herself unconsciously at the thought of seeing Jughead in a few hours.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We were worried for you a little,” Donna says sweetly as Betty’s smile falters, “I was quite sure you were suffering from SOS symptoms- even wondered if I should report you at Health and Security, but Fred reassured me it was normal. He said you’ve had slumps in your creative prowess before but you always came back, and what can I say…he was right.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty feels like she’s swallowed sandpaper at the rawness in her throat, a chill running down her spine at Donna’s nonchalant comment about reporting her. It takes all her will power to talk over the tremor in her voice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve just been feeling a little burned out I suppose, but then we all have. There are hardly any new reports from Apollo and I was hoping I’d have more material to work with these last few weeks.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ethel hums, “There’s bound to be more news once they’ve established base.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The talk dwindles to other safer topics as they leave Atmos but she doesn’t breathe easy until both the women have left for their own solitary walks home. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her mood is dampened considerably as she walks to her residence and lies down on the couch to wait the few hours before it’s safe enough to sneak off to Jughead’s place. She can’t help berating herself for the careless way she’s been behaving, smiling like an idiot all the time so that everyone has noticed. It’s exactly what happened last time, they were taking too many risks, and now again. She tries to relax, telling herself she’ll be careful in the future but it’s not easy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s later than usual when she finally feels calm enough to get up and take the route to Jughead’s. It’s quiet at this hour in her building but she’s perfected her stealthy walk enough times to slip out without a sound. Her stomach’s rumbling from hunger and she realizes guiltily that Jughead must be hungry too by now, waiting for her to turn up. They’ve made it a point to eat dinner together since their first night.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sure enough he’s waiting for her when she knocks quietly on the door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Where were you?” Jughead murmurs into her hair as soon as he pulls her inside, wrapping her in a hug that makes her fears dissolve like foam, “I’ve been going crazy trying to figure out why you were late…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, just had a few things to do,” Betty responds, feeling too content in his arms to go into any lengthy explanations. She wants these moments with him free of all the worries that plague her, unspoiled and pure.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They eat dinner and she holds his hand beneath the table the whole time he talks, droning on about his plants in a way that’s so endearing. Donna’s comment keeps flitting through her mind and although he doesn’t notice, she presses her fingers harder against his every time, relishing in the way his rough textured ones feel against her own.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to shower,” Jughead says when they’ve cleared up the dinner plates and she’s dragged the mattress from his bed to the floor behind the counter, “be right back.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She nods but instead of lying down to wait for him, watches him undress, separated only by the glass partition between them. He steps gracefully in the shower cubicle, the water automatically coming down in a steady spray and he doesn’t notice her watching until he turns around to pick up the soap.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His gaze turns heated immediately and Betty can feel her entire body respond to him, can feel the way warmth spreads slowly from her toes to the tips of her nipples, the heat of it peaking low in her belly and in that sweet pulsing spot between her legs. He looks at her and she can hardly breathe and this feeling is so overwhelming at times, there’s something almost uncomfortable about it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead’s got a lazy smile on his face as he beckons her to him, and she follows like she’s in a trance. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Take your clothes off,” he says lowly and she doesn’t think twice before complying. He pulls her under the shower just as she steps out of her panties. She gasps as the water hits her but he doesn’t wait. He has her pressed against himself under the steady stream, kissing her roughly. It’s dirty and wet and hot and she can hardly keep up before he’s fingering her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I used to think about you here all the time,” he pants against her mouth, “I’d think about stripping you naked and kissing your breasts. I’d touch myself and imagine cumming in your mouth. I never thought I’d ever get to touch you, but I wanted you, God, I wanted you-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s moaning as he works her with his nimble fingers, so unbearably turned on by his voice and his words and the utter joy in being desired so completely. He kisses her hard when she comes, stealing the breath from her body, leaving her feeling lightheaded with all that undiluted pleasure.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted you too,” she murmurs against his throat as he drops kisses on her shoulders and fondles her breasts, her body still humming from the intensity of her orgasm. “I still want you all the time, even now, I want you inside me, I want you to take everything from me, I don’t even know what it is but I want you to take it- does that make sense?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He slips his hands beneath her thighs and hoists her up, supporting her against the cool wall and she gasps first at the invasive chill of the tiles on her back and then, at the invasive warmth of </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>as he slips inside her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s quick and hot and just a little rough and she wants it exactly like that, his breath fanning out over her face as he pushes deeper inside her. Everything feels slippery; boundaries, words, emotions, and she bites down on her tongue before something else slips from her mouth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Do you love me?</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she wants to ask him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>do you love me the way I do? Like I could just die from all this feeling inside my heart. Is that what you mean when you tell me you want me?</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead comes with a muffled groan against her jaw, and she can feel the wild beating of his heart against her breast. She sighs as he pulls out of her, setting her gently on the floor but still holding onto her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s get you cleaned up again,” he murmurs as he watches fascinated at the way his cum drips down her thighs. She can feel the colour rise in her cheeks as he smears some of it across her skin and looks at her. His pupils are dilated once more and she has no idea if this is insanity; this never ending cycle of want that keeps erupting within her and him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He makes love to her again on the mattress behind the kitchen counter and this time it’s slower and softer and sweeter in ways that make it hard not to tell him she loves him more than life itself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wonders sometimes why she wants him to tell her he loves her first. Maybe she’s afraid he’s not really there yet, she’s had a head start after all, and it will be some time before he feels the way she does. She’s made herself so vulnerable with him and now she’s unwilling to let go of the little power she has over him with her premature confessions of love. Maybe Jughead will say it one of these days. She holds onto that hope and doesn’t tell him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want a life with you outside these walls,” he tells her one night and it makes the butterflies in her belly go wild. “I want people to look at us and not think we’re sick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pleasures him in the early hours of the morning, taking him in her mouth as he stretches beneath her, his muscles pulled taut as she swallows, the taste of him warm and salty on her tongue.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It takes Jughead almost five minutes to recover, coming down from his high, breathless and dazed, a sheepish grin on his face as he watches her dress and tame her wild hair in a ponytail. She can’t help the smug little smile on her face as she sticks out her tongue at him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You look like you’ve been serviced well.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I have indeed,” he holds out his hand to her. “Come here. I want to return the favour.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty shakes her head at him, her eyes widening as he gets up and approaches her slowly, something dangerous glinting in his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll make it quick I promise,” Jughead says right before he catches her, pulling her flush against his body.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop! I have to go!” She laughs trying to dodge his lips as he drops quick kisses on her face and neck. Her pleas fall on deaf ears and she can’t bring herself to care too much about it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>True to his word, he does make it quick but she’s late nevertheless by the time she gets to her own room, showers and then quickly drinks a glass of milk unable to stop smiling. She keeps breaking into little giggles at Jughead’s antics and it takes a lot of effort to finally dampen the grin on her face for it to be safe enough to go outside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a gorgeous day and she can’t help thinking how much more beautiful she finds everything now that she has Jughead to share it with. It’s a short walk to the subway and she decides to skip her usual longer route by foot to Atmos and take the train in order to save some time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s an air of excitement at the subway when she gets there, a strange energy vibrating amongst the people. Somewhere in the background, a message is being transmitted repeatedly but Betty hardy pays attention to it as she walks to the ticket counter. She’s so preoccupied with her own thoughts that she nearly walks into a man. He holds up his hand impatiently when she apologizes and it’s only then that Betty notices how still everyone around her is, eyes transfixed on the huge screen that’s normally only playing pre-recorded messages on SOS symptoms and the need for early reporting. And then it registers; the new message that has everyone transfixed under a spell. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They’ve found a cure.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For a fraction of a second that stretches on to eternity, everything stops; time, the world, her heart. Everyone around her seems to move in slow motion, frozen in that moment, as the house of cards she’s been holding on to with so much hope begins to disintegrate.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The message slowly filters through all the white noise as she begins making sense of the words:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“-the significant breakthrough came after the isolation of the bulbar cell line, allowing effective genetic re-silencing without triggering the systemic organ malfunction that had marked earlier attempts. To be clear, this is not another Kappa Rho inhibitor, it’s a cure that restores the health and systematic order to the individual. With the Ashby ENI cure, it is only a matter of time before all current cases of SOS are treated and future cases prevented. The ENI cure is injected directly into the neck, leaving a small coin like scar, a quick and simple procedure. Once administered the drug requires a six hour absorption period before the disease is completely neutralized, at which point regardless of stage, the patient is restored to normal health. Mass production of the drug is already underway and shipments are being made available directly to public clinics immediately. Individuals diagnosed with SOS need not suffer another day...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The message starts playing again on loop while all she can think is that it’s over.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s over. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That dizzying, devastating, wonderful time to love him is over.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, the world begins to move once more with lightning speed towards the end, the arrival of the train so symbolic of it. She boards it in a daze, her mind still trying to grasp on to this life changing news, completely numb with all the questions she’s so afraid to find the answers to.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’ll want it. Of course Jughead will want it. He still talks about how much he hates to be seen as different, how much he resents the pitying way the others look at him. She can’t blame him, he’s only stage two, he’s had a lot less time to process these feelings that she can’t seem to live without. A sob breaks out of her unbidden and the woman sitting next to her looks at her in alarm, eyebrows raised in sympathy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you ok?” she asks as Betty’s tears begin spilling.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she chokes out, trying to stop the trembling in her hands even as fear clogs up her throat, a part of her mind registers the fact that she’s displaying too much emotion in public. “I just stubbed my toe on the metal railing and I think I broke a nail. It’s ok...I’ll go check in the bathroom. Thank you for your concern.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The woman nods smiling and Betty stumbles out of the carriage, sighing in relief when she finds the bathroom unoccupied. She locks the door and collapses on the floor, burying her head between her knees and wrapping her arms around herself as she breaks into uncontrollable sobs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>******</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s calmed down by the time she walks to his place that night. The day has passed in a blur and she can hardly remember anything about it other than the date. She thinks she’ll remember this date all her life.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The door’s unlocked and she walks in to find Jughead standing in front of the large glass windows looking out at the skyline. Her heart plummets at the way his shoulders are tense, like he’s gearing up for a fight. He turns around when she calls out his name.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you see?” she asks, hating how tense her voice sounds. He nods after a short pause, and she notices they haven’t exchanged pleasantries like they normally do.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. On the way to the greenhouse this morning. It was hard to miss, that’s all anyone talked about today.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Same. A stage one co-worker already got it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” he looks thrown off by this information. She notices how the conversation seems stilted in a way it has never felt before and she can’t help feeling the despair that’s beginning to clog up her throat again. Jughead looks guarded and on edge, she can see it in the way his eyes keep flitting towards her and away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>We’re falling apart</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thinks to herself helplessly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I just crawled my way back to you and now you’re going to leave again.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s strange isn’t it,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence that’s enveloping them, “all this time and they finally have a cure.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t know what to say so she responds with a neutral, “Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dr. Curdle kept telling me about it,” he continues in that same guarded tone, “I didn’t believe him, but it appears he was-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want something to eat?” Betty cuts him off, backing away towards the open kitchen counter. Her eyes fall on the mattress, still lying there unmade from this morning and she can feel tears prickling behind her eyelids. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re hungry?” Jughead’s voice sounds incredulous, and anger flares inside her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s unfair, but she can’t help the bite in her tone, “I’m ravenous.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Betty,” he sighs following her, where she’s standing in front of the stove, “I think we need to talk about this.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s there to talk about? Do you know what happens? It’s not just a new start, we’re going to remember this. We’re going to remember everything we’ve been able to feel but we’re not going to feel it anymore. It’s like we won’t even exist anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He lays a gentle hand on her shoulder and doesn’t remove it even when she flinches. It breaks her heart at the way he’s looking at her and she rubs a hand across her face sighing, “I just need a little time to process it, Jug.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Process what?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This,” she gestures between them, too exhausted to care as her tears begin to fall. “Losing this. I just feel so numb right now. I always knew we were on borrowed time, but it’s too soon. I know it’s unfair to you, you’re still in the early stages but to me it seems like I’ve felt like this all my life, and I know it’s selfish to say this but I don’t want to lose you-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead cuts off her rambling by cupping her face and kissing her. She lets out a muffled moan when he pulls back, trying to chase his lips. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, listen to me,” Jughead says, shaking her, forcing her to look at him, “what are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere, Betty.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes you are. You’re going to become a stranger the minute you get the cure.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” he murmurs and pauses, taking his time, “It’s a good thing then I’m not getting it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty jerks back, looking at him slack jawed, “What?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You heard me. I don’t want to go back to my life before you. I’m not going to get it. Do you want it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The ringing in her ears is too loud for her to be sure she’s hearing him correctly as she grips his shirt looking at him with wide crazed eyes. She’d been preparing for him to end things all day and now he’s saying he just-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean that? You don’t want it?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No I don’t,” he repeats, “Do you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I- no of course not- but-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re not getting it then,” he says simply, mouth set in a determined line. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty sighs wearily, “Jug, we can’t just pretend or hide all our lives. They’ll make us take it. They won’t risk it this time. You’re registered already and I’ve heard they’re planning on mass testing so it’s not like I’ll be able to keep on hiding-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“None of that matters,” he mutters. There’s a strange wild look in his eyes and as little sense as he’s making, Betty leans into him, the tense knots in her gut feeling both looser and tighter at the same time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wraps his arms around her, pulling her close and she forces herself to breathe. Whatever happens she has this moment with him and she wants to hold onto it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re going to get out,” he says almost to himself. She draws back again but doesn’t say anything, too surprised by his words to even try and make sense of them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You trust me, right?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty nods immediately and that brings a soft smile to his face, as he traces his thumb gently across her cheek, “That’s my brave girl. All I need is for you is to trust me. We’re going to find a way to get out of this mess. And we’re going to do it together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>******</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Betty leaves an hour earlier than usual from work two days later, headed for a location Jughead’s explained to her although she has never ventured this far out of the city on her own. It’s a warm evening and her shirt is sticking to her back by the time she reaches the spot Jughead had told her to wait for him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s been waiting a good ten minutes when a low whistle startles her and she turns just in time to see him approaching her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ready?” he asks as he walks up to her and she nods.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead holds out his hand and she reaches for it. They’ve never touched each other out in the open before, let alone held hands, and there’s something so dizzyingly wonderful about it. She presses her palm harder against his, taken over for a moment by the fantasy of running away together to a place where she can always walk thus, her fingers meshed with Jughead’s. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They walk silently side by side for some time until he takes a sharp right turn and suddenly there’s an old building looming ahead, dilapidated and abandoned from the looks of it. Betty feels her heart rate pick up and Jughead senses her agitation.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, dropping a quick kiss on her knuckles. “They’re all good people.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty nods, willing her heart to slow down. Jughead had told her all about the support group he’d joined and how much it had helped him, but she still feels sceptical about sharing her secret with so many people. It feels like a huge risk but he seems to trust them and she trusts him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A young man opens the door when they knock and looks at Jughead questioningly, but moves aside to let them in. Jughead still has her hand clasped in his when they pass through another door to a dark room where a small group of people are huddled together in a circle, deep in conversation. They fall silent immediately as the two of them walk in, most of them staring at Betty and she can feel goose bumps erupting at the back of her neck. She grits her teeth, fighting the urge to turn back and run.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well this is a surprise. I assume this is Betty,” a red haired man addresses them and Betty immediately knows this is Jason from Jughead’s description. His voice is low, but thankfully not hostile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Jughead nods,  “and we’re together now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re coupling?” The petite woman sitting next to Jason asks and Betty can’t help tensing at the note of disapproval in her tone. Jughead also stiffens next to her, gripping her hand harder as he says rather defensively, “Yes, Toni, we are.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s...risky,” the woman murmurs, but doesn’t say more. Her mouth remains a thin red line as Jason motions for them to sit, making a quick introduction of the rest of the group; Dr. Mary, Pop, Fangs and Kevin. Betty nods at each one of them and smiles weakly. The air is tense around them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you were coming to the meeting tonight. You’re more than welcome here, Betty. I suppose you’ve heard about the new development, this new cure-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We have,” Jughead cuts in and pauses, then slowly adds, “and we- we’ve decided we’re not getting it. We want to go to the Peninsula.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The room was quiet before but the following silence is deafening. All eyes are now focused on the two of them and Betty finds it hard to breathe. Next to her Jughead senses her discomfort, pulling her closer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jason clears his throat looking around the room and says quietly, “At my old post, I used to take part in an air patrol. We wouldn’t fly directly over the Peninsula, but we could see it from a distance. It’s completely overgrown, primitive and wild, it’s not a place any of us have been trained to survive in...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty’s throat feels dry and she tries to swallow the saliva pooling in her mouth. This isn’t the fairytale escape she was hoping for. She looks up at Jughead who seems just as tense, but no less decisive.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re seriously considering this?” Mary asks, her warm brown eyes mirroring her shock.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know how you feel, but you’re not thinking of the risks. You’ll be on your own out there, completely helpless. There’ll be no one to help you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The alternative to that is staying here and being found out. We don’t want the cure, but they’ll force us to get it. There isn’t an easy way out of this, but I’d rather die by free will than-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s easier said than done, my dear,” Mary interjects quietly. Betty bites her cheek, but doesn’t say anything more and it’s Jughead who completes her thought. “This is non-negotiable, Mary. We’re leaving. The question is if there’s a way any of you can help us?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The older woman sighs, but makes no further comment. From the corner of her eye, Betty can see the other two men, Fangs and Kevin, murmuring to each other, while Toni just sits there staring at her, expression sullen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jason is the one to break the silence once more. “I can ask my old colleague,” he says a little hesitantly. “He was the pilot who took us on our air patrols. He’s retired now, but lives near the border crossing. He’s bound to know more. He might be able to help you-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kevin exchanges a look with Fangs again and grimaces, “If you do this and they get caught, the whole plan could be traced back to you, or to this group. You’ve always said interfering was too risky. I don’t see why we should be putting ourselves in danger, especially now when things may just change for the better with this cure.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know about better,” Pop murmurs. “I don’t have the energy to do it myself, but I’d have chosen a free life in the wilderness over this cure if I could, too. There is no joy in a life of controlled submission, not now when I’ve seen better. I’m willing to help you kids in any way I can-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty’s heart swells at this stranger’s kindness and she smiles at him in gratitude. The others seem to be less willing to say anything further. She can feel the air around them souring like curdled milk.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mary shakes her head, leaning closer, clearly agitated, “If you do this...there is no turning back. If you do manage to get out...you can never return, no matter what...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We know that. We’re willing to pay the cost,” Betty responds and the woman sighs again but nods, something almost wistful about her expression.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok then, I’ll talk to him and let you know,” Jason says eventually when the silence has stretched on long enough. Betty and Jughead exchange a look and she gives him a small encouraging smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you. We’ll wait.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two days after the meeting she comes home to find Jughead brimming with hopeful energy. He reaches for her the second she opens the door, pulling her in a hug that she returns eagerly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jason came to see me after work today,” he says quietly but Betty can tell how excited he is. Her own heart soars.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god! What did he say?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, I’ll tell you everything-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They crouch together in their safe space behind the counter, whispering to each other. It’s silly perhaps, given there’s no one there, but it feels monumental to keep this secret between them as sacred as they can, not even to be shared with the air around them. Jughead grips her hands tightly between his own as he tells her about the plan.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Welling is the closest station to the border. Trains don’t go there before the weekend; I checked the schedule. We could leave this Saturday.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty takes a deep breath, “That’s only four more days. It almost feels too good to be true. So we ask about this FP at the border?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Jason says he’ll take us as far as the forest boundary but not beyond that. He says the man knows the place and although he wasn’t sure, he said there’s a chance FP might even know some of the people there...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jug what if these people don’t want us?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No- Jason said he’s never told anyone, but FP has helped several people escape before. We’re not the only ones who’ve tried running away Betty. Jason said he’s certain all these people are now settled in one of the villages and FP even keeps in touch with them.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty draws a deep breath, “We’re not just being reckless, are we Jug? We’re not just throwing away everything for nothing, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead shakes his head, his face set, “The alternative to that is staying here like you said. I don’t want this pointless life here without you, Betty, not anymore...we’re doing this.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She presses her forehead against his and closes her eyes, “Ok. Come Saturday we’re doing this.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead smiles tenderly at her, pulling back to look at her face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re shaking-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So are you-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He laughs lowly, “You’re sure about this right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She nods cupping his face, “Yeah. You?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Absolutely.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls her in his lap and she hugs him fiercely, holding onto him with everything she has. They’ll make their happy ending together yet. Come Saturday they will.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>******</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She makes a small mark on the simple calendar she keeps by her bedside table for Saturday. It’s only four days but that little mark makes it more real somehow and Betty holds on to it with desperation in her heart.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>On Wednesday she dresses like every morning in her neat white uniform and leaves for work, a large file clutched in her hand. She’s been working a little ahead, trying to organise as much of her work as she can so that no one begins to notice her absence immediately. They’re allowed 2 days of sick leave and there’s already a pre-recorded voice message in her interface that she’s set to play automatically when she doesn’t turn up for work on Monday. Jughead has done the same.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If everything goes according to plan, they’ll both be well out of the territory of the Collective by the time any one realizes they’re missing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She makes a beeline for Gate 32 that leads to Atmos, but the biometric at the gate doesn’t authenticate her to pass. She tries several times, anxiety flaring as the line behind her begins to grow. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your tag is marked for conception duty,” a man behind her says pointing at the screen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” She asks too bewildered to fully comprehend the man’s words.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve received a conception summons. It’s showing up on your tag. Is this your first time?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty finally looks at the biometric screen the man is pointing at and sure enough, there’s a notification at the right hand corner stating, ‘conception duty’.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You should report at the health and security office before you go to work. They’ll allow access at the gates only after you’ve registered for your appointment.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Betty says swallowing around the dread in her throat, “right, thanks for the help.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The man smiles as Betty steps aside to let him pass but as soon as she’s walked fifteen steps towards the office, she turns around and takes the opposite route from Atmos, leading to the greenhouses where Jughead works.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty gets there in ten minutes, her fists curled tightly as she tries to fight the rising panic. She was so afraid something would go wrong and now it has and if she doesn’t tell Jughead right away she might just lose it. She knows she’s breaking a lot of rules, but nothing seems to matter any more. Not when she’s about two seconds away from screaming her lungs out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She spots him bent near one of the vegetable patches, weeding, and the tense knot in her stomach loosens. Just looking at him makes her feel lighter, like somehow a burden has lifted. Betty breathes deeply and dares to inch a little closer before calling out his name softly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead looks up, startled. His expression changes from surprised to panicked immediately when his eyes land on her. He looks around to check no one is in sight and then he’s by her side in a second, grasping her hand and pulling her along until they’re deeper in the gardens, surrounded by an overgrown hedge.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing here? You can’t be seen here-“ his voice is laced with worry even as he looks around furtively to check again that there’s no one near them or passing by.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She grips his hand in both of hers to stop their trembling, and squeezes it hard, “Jug I’ve received a conception summons. What am I going to do?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m on conception duty. It showed up on my tag just now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He looks completely stunned for a minute and her heart rate begins to spike once more. What if this changes everything, what if he thinks it’s too much trouble to-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This doesn’t change anything,” he mutters as if he can read her mind and she lets out a breath she’d been holding. She swallows and shakes her head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What will I do? I’ll have to go see the doctor-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just ignore it. It’s only two more days-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t, Jughead,” Betty says urgently, “It’ll show up everywhere, my tag’s already been blocked. I won’t be able to go to work or make it past any of the checkpoints on Saturday.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead lets out a frustrated sigh and looks away biting his cheek. “Go see the doctor then,” he says eventually, “It won’t matter, it’s not like they’re going to inseminate you right away.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She scoffs incredulously, “They’ll take my samples. They’ll know immediately that I have the disease-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So what?” Jughead counters, “They can’t force you to get the cure. The most they’ll do is schedule an appointment at the SOS clinic and tell you to wait your turn. The clinics are overwhelmed right now, no one’s even tried to contact me yet. They’re probably going to work their way up from the earliest diagnosed cases. You go see the doctor and then you get out of there, ok? Just don’t panic-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m scared,” Betty whimpers, the panic rising in her throat again, despite his plea. “What if something goes wrong-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, hey look at me-” he grips her face in both his hands and forces her to look at him, “Nothing is going to go wrong. We’re going to get out. We’re going to be together. This changes nothing, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She closes her eyes and nods even as a tear slips down her cheek. Jughead pulls her face closer, resting his forehead against hers, “Hey now, none of that. Come on. We’re leaving Saturday morning, 10 am train. We’re going to get out of here no matter what.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His fingers wipe her tears away tenderly and she nods again, trying to muster a smile for him despite the lump in her throat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now I need you to get back,” Jughead murmurs gently, “go report at health and security, get your appointment and then go to work. I’ll meet you at the clinic after my shift ends and then we’ll go see Jason to make sure this doesn’t affect our plans. I need you to be brave for me, okay? Now go before someone sees you here.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty presses her lips to his for a mere second and then draws back nodding, “Okay. I’ll meet you at the clinic later then. Everything is going to be fine...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He nods encouragingly and she rubs her hands together trying to keep the warmth of his larger ones trapped between her fingers as she walks away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>******</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve received a summons,” she tells the lady at the reception desk five hours later on her way back from work. The woman nods and ticks her name off an appointment journal then asks her to wait her turn. Betty takes a seat, trying to keep her hands from curling into her palms as she breathes in and out deeply. There are seven other women in the room and she prays silently that she gets called soon. Her anxiety’s beginning to build again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She gets called about twenty minutes later. There’s a nurse waiting for her with a gown and slippers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please change into these and wait in the examination room. Dr. Kathryn will see you in a few minutes.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She nods and takes the gown and slippers. The nurse leaves and Betty strips off her uniform and unclasps her bra, feeling deeply uncomfortable at being exposed like this. She pulls on the gown and then finally slips off her panties. She’s heard enough times about the kind of physical examination the doctor will conduct. The nerves are back in her throat, making swallowing harder as she sits down on the examination couch in the adjoining room, clasping her hands together across her stomach as she waits for the confrontation. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Betty,” Dr. Kathryn smiles as she enters the room a minute later. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, doctor,” she replies. Betty’s always liked her, she’s always been kind to Betty on her previous bi-annual check ups. She takes another deep breath, hoping the doctor won’t make a scene out of her impending delayed diagnosis.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be taking a few samples and then performing a basic abdominal and pelvic scan as well as a PV. Please lie down.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, doctor,” Betty responds as she lies down on the couch, trying desperately to calm down. The doctor puts on a pair of gloves and takes out a testing syringe. She tries not to flinch when the needle pricks her and then waits with bated breath as the doctor presses down on the button, waiting for her results. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dr. Kathryn’s expression changes from serene to horrified as soon as the bio strip turns red. Betty takes a deep breath.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m positive, aren’t I,” she says trying to sound calm, “I have SOS right? I had a feeling-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Betty,” the doctor interrupts her in a sharp voice, her entire demeanour now changed to open hostility, “You’re already pregnant!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>******</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s lost all sense of time as she slips in and out of consciousness. The cell is dark and all she can feel is the hard stone floor beneath her and the way the heavy chain around her ankle bites into her skin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She keeps thinking back to that moment, keeps replaying the doctor’s words in her head, the way she’d looked at Betty and the few words she’d spoken before the entire focus of Betty’s universe tilted. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s pregnant. She’s pregnant with Jughead’s baby and now they’re going to rip that child out of her body. There’s a scream clawing its way out of her throat and she covers her mouth with her hands, breathing harshly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was too good, too beautiful that dream. There’s a part of her that’s still holding onto hope, but every passing minute she can feel that part shrivel up and die. What a stupid, silly thing to harbour, the dream of a future with Jughead. How naive of her to think they’d make it, how completely, utterly foolish! She despises herself now, so useless and futile, chained up in this dark cell without any chance of escape.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She tries to keep her hysterical sobbing in check, but everytime she thinks about Jughead, her desperation increases. She keeps thinking how long it will take for him to finally realize that she’s not coming back. Maybe Mary will let him know. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She has no idea what they’ll do with her. Maybe they’ll give her the cure. Or maybe they’ll just leave her here until she goes completely insane and kills herself. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She wonders how long he’ll wait before he decides he’s had enough and get the cure himself. At least he’ll live. She’s thankful for that. They had tried questioning her about her partner, but she hadn’t spoken a word. She would die before she betrayed him like that. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes keep drooping shut- they must have given her sedatives to calm her down.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I wish I’d told him I loved him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thinks as she tries to resist falling asleep, lying curled up on the floor and the tears keep spilling. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I wish I’d told him he was my whole world. I wish I hadn’t waited for him to say it first.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wakes up to the sound of someone moving around the cell and she sits up in a panic. Her head’s pounding with the constant crying and hunger. She has no idea how long she’s been sleeping, but it seems like ages have passed. The white uniforms of the paramedics shine eerily in the otherwise dark cell. She can feel her throat swelling up with fear as they approach her. There are two of them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please,” she whimpers, trying to shrink further in the shadows, “please don’t hurt me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They don’t say anything as one of them bends and unlocks the chain from around her ankle. It falls with the heavy clang of metal to the floor and she feels a temporary relief as the constant chafing ceases.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come along,” the shorter of the two says. It’s a woman and Betty tries in vain to figure out why her voice sounds so familiar.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are you taking me?” she asks only to be met by silence as they pull her up. Their hands are gentle, but there’s no room for protest as they lead her out of the cell and then proceed to strap her to a wheelchair. She feels almost faint with the fear that’s holding her heart in a vise, but it’s no use struggling or even thinking about escaping. She’s hopelessly lost in this maze of corridors and dark cells. There’s no running away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The man pushing the wheelchair takes several turns and she gives up trying to keep count. There’s a dimly lit corridor they enter finally and she begins whimpering again, the inevitability of what is about to happen to her and the baby making it hard to breathe.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Please God</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she prays desperately, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please I beg of you not our child.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They enter a room that strangely enough looks like a storage room rather than an operation theatre like she’d been expecting and she hasn’t yet registered why, when Mary emerges from the shadows. To her right the man takes off the mask he’s wearing and she gasps.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jason?” her head’s reeling from shock even as the three people around her start undoing her straps and Mary pulls her up to stand, “Mary?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Change your clothes and listen to me carefully,” Mary says cupping her face and Betty blinks at her, trying to understand what’s happening. The other woman who’d accompanied Jason is Toni, currently busy taking out a pressed white uniform and a pair of shoes from a bag.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey! Look at me! I need you to focus now,” Mary says urgently, “There’s not enough time, but we’re going to get you out. A woman named Beth was admitted in the facility a week ago, she was offered the cure but she committed suicide last night by asphyxiation and you’re going to switch places with her. Listen to me Betty you need to focus-” Mary pats her several times on the cheek, sharp enough for it to sting and Betty is suddenly alert.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Beth...” she murmurs trying to see clearly- everything still feels blurry and vague, “who’s Beth?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re Beth,” Mary says sharply, “Beth didn’t kill herself last night, Betty did. You’re Beth, she was you. You were offered the cure and you took it. I’m going to exchange your tags and you’re going to walk out of here, showing up disease free wherever you go...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Toni silently undoes her hospital gown and then she’s helping Betty get dressed as fast as she can as Mary rattles off instructions. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hold out your arm, your left arm,” Jason says gently as Toni helps her put on her shoes. They’re working in tandem so quickly she finds it hard to keep up. Jason has a small pen like device that he holds up to show her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to exchange your tracker chip with hers, it’s going to sting a little.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He makes a tiny incision with the sharp instrument and then removes the tiny sub dermal chip she’s had in her left arm since she was eighteen. He immediately places another chip in its place and seals the incision.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re good,” he tells Mary and she nods.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on then,” she unlocks the door beckoning to Betty and she jerks forward like she’s in a dream. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I told Jughead to wait for you at his place. Go to him directly and board the train tomorrow. The plan’s still in place-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She nods, her heart in her mouth, “Jason, Toni, I-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hurry!” Mary calls and Jason nods to her as does Toni. She hopes her parting watery smile can translate even a fraction of the gratitude she feels towards these people as the older woman pulls her along. They walk quietly across countless corridors, Mary’s face set impassively as Betty tries to avoid making eye contact with any of the workers they pass.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Outside, she squints in the bright sunlight, trying to adjust to the dazzle of it after the dank darkness of the DEN. There’s an unguarded side gate that Mary leads her to and opens it, the doors creaking at the hinges, rusty from disuse. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Follow the path that leads through the woods, you’ll come out near the subway,” Mary tells her squeezing her hand, “Go find your freedom. Good luck.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She smiles wistfully at Betty one last time as the gate shuts once more and Betty takes a deep breath looking towards the path Mary has pointed out. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She takes another deep breath and then she runs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>******</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woods have been a favourite haunting spot for her since the early days of her disease. She’s walked these paths and hummed to herself, finding comfort in the beauty around her, listening to the birds in the trees and the cicadas, the overgrown grass soft beneath her feet. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now as she runs, the woods only represent one more obstacle keeping her from Jughead. The sound of her breathing is harsh in her ears, as she makes her way towards the subway, stumbling and nearly falling twice in her hurry.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She stands panting at the edge of the woods, trying to wipe away the sweat from her face and tidying her hair as she emerges on to the road. It’s almost empty, save for the occasional person and she keeps reminding herself not to run as she begins taking measured steps in the direction of A5. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty’s never dared to enter his building in broad daylight before, but no one questions her as she takes the stairs, expression schooled to neutral once more. Her pulse keeps spiking as she reaches his floor. The door is unlocked and she pushes it open with her heart in her mouth, nearly delirious with the anticipation to hold him, to touch him, to just see him with her own eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s empty.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jughead?” She calls out, voice laced with disappointment as she walks around. It’s a wide open space, even the bathroom is a mere glass separation, but she can’t quite believe somehow that he isn’t here.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jug?” She calls again but it’s no use. She slumps down on the couch feeling deflated. Jason had told with so much confidence that he’d be here and now he’s...not.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He must be at work, it only makes sense after all. Jason had probably not realized it wouldn’t be a good idea for Jughead to be absent from work without a reason. And they’d both been planning to send in their sick leaves only after leaving on Saturday to give them enough time to escape.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead probably knows she’ll be here waiting for him so it’s only sensible to stay put and try and rest a little. They’ll need all the rest they can and the last 48 hours have drained her from pretty much all the energy in her body.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She lies down on the couch, wondering what they’re saying about her at Atmos. Health and Security must have reported about citizen Betty’s suicide by now. Bret won’t miss her, that’s for sure. Perhaps Fred will say a few kind words about her and Ethel and Midge will agree. And then she’ll be replaced by someone new, never to be mentioned again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Good. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She wants to be dead to these people, these selfish, cruel people who’d rip her child from her body. She presses her hand on her flat stomach; she nearly lost it. Not again, she thinks, never again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Betty wakes up from a restless sleep to a room drowned in shadows. It’s stiflingly hot, and she gets up fumbling around till the lights turn on automatically, sensing her movement. It’s 8 o’clock and her heart sinks. Jughead gets off from work at six. He should have been here by now. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She sets to work in the kitchen, making soup in the hopes that he’ll come home soon. They can eat dinner and pack the few things they plan to take with them. They’d been accumulating things they might need out in the wilderness of the Peninsula these past few days so there’s not much left to do.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s still not home two hours later and her anxiety begins to claw its way out slowly. This isn’t right, it’s not normal. Jughead’s never worked this late at the greenhouse. He can’t still be there. All kinds of terrible thoughts keep flitting in her mind as she stands in the kitchen, hands akimbo, wondering if she should finally risk venturing out and try to find him when the door opens and he walks in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jughead!” Betty cries in relief and she’s in his arms the next second, clutching him desperately, almost afraid that she’s hallucinating and he’s only a figment of her imagination. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Where have you been?” She questions breathlessly, cupping his face, running her hands through his hair, “I’ve been worrying like crazy all day...Jason told me you’d be waiting here for me but you just...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She takes a deep breath, finding comfort in the familiar shape of his body, burying her face in his neck as she kisses his pulse. She draws back so she can look at him and her heart sinks at the way he’s staring at her, his eyes wide in shock, almost like he’s seeing a ghost.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” Betty whispers, heart hammering. Something’s terribly wrong. He’s not talking to her, he’s not even looking at her now, “Hey look at me? What’s the matter?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She pulls his face towards herself and then she feels it beneath her fingertips; that tiny cylindrical disc like scar on the side of his neck, the faint marking of a neat incision held together by fine sutures. She stares at it uncomprehending for several stunned seconds and then, like she’s been slapped sharply, steps back with a sharp gasp.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jug? Is that...is that the-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” he answers in a flat tone and suddenly she can’t breathe. It’s a mistake, it has to be. It can’t be real, he would never betray her like this.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?” she moans. Jughead finally looks at her and his eyes are wild and the raw grief in them is too much, there’s too much happening too fast and she can’t process it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You were gone-“ he says dully. He’s just standing there in a stupor and she shakes her head, both her hands bunching up fistfuls of her blonde hair. She wants to scream out till her throat stops feeling like it’s going to collapse in on itself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I saw them take you away, at the clinic,” he continues, and she watches as slowly the wetness in his eyes begins to spill over, “I went to Jason immediately and told him what happened. He had no idea why they’d take you but he said he’d do something about it-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They found out I was pregnant at the clinic,” she says and his mouth falls open in shock, the colour draining from his face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she whimpers, lips trembling. “That’s why they took me to the DEN. I tried to make a run for it, but they caught me. Of course they caught me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I saw them- I saw them drag you away- I wanted to find you, but he told me to go back, I was- I was freaking out, I wanted to come with him, but he wouldn’t let me-“ Jughead’s voice falters and he lets out a shuddering breath. “He made me come back here, told me to wait for you. I waited and waited and waited. I kept thinking you’d come back, and I didn’t want you to find me gone, so I stayed. But then you didn’t come. I was going crazy with worry, so this morning I went looking for you-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He pauses and swallows and Betty can’t look at him anymore. She closes her eyes, her head is pounding and everything feels like it’s closing in around her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I went to the DEN,” he says eventually. She opens her eyes to find him staring at her again. “They told me there had been a breach in security, but they wouldn’t tell me more. I came back, hoping I might be able to find Kevin or Fangs but then they started playing the message everywhere in the Collective. They named Mary, Jason and Toni. Someone ratted them out. They’ve all been given the cure.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty gasps in horror as guilt overwhelms her. They’d risked their own lives, trying to get her out. And it was all for nothing. Jughead’s been given the cure as well and she’s all alone. It was all for nothing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So you just went ahead and got the vaccine? You didn’t think about me?” she says feeling so tired now, like she’s been drained of all her energy and all that’s left now is an empty sack of skin and bones.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Jughead responds, and for the first time there’s a note of anger in his voice and she relishes in that, in the realization that he’s still feeling something, even if it’s ugly and hurtful. “I went back to the DEN. I asked about you, gave them your name and tag number. They said that you- that you’d...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That I’d committed suicide,” she whispers and Jughead nods, running his hands roughly over his face. “They helped me escape, all three of them. Exchanged my tag with someone who’d just died and got me out. Why didn’t you come back here? If only you’d have come back here-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I had a panic attack when they told me about you. I tried to force my way in. It got out of hand and then all I can remember after that is waking up at the clinic and this-” he presses a finger over his neck where the tiny scar now rests, such a gentle reminder to the beginning of their end. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s quiet in the room and then he simply says, “I wanted to kill myself. I tried to-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She cries out and finally crosses over to him, pressing her hands to his mouth in horror, “Don’t say that. It doesn’t matter, none of that matters. You’re here now- you’re here-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve ruined everything,” he moans out burying his face against her neck, she can feel his tears against her skin and it only makes her cry harder for everything they’ve lost.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not your fault, none of it was your fault or mine,” she says kissing his temples, “I’d have gone looking for you too, I would have done the same-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Betty,” Jughead says, gripping her waist, his eyes bloodshot when he looks at her, “I can feel it inside me. It’s changing me already-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How long do you have?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, maybe four hours,” his face crumples and he closes his eyes, fingers digging into the flesh of her hips. “I’m losing you, I’m losing you so quickly-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No. No. You’ll never lose me, we’re leaving no matter what. We’re getting on that train, ok? Together, like we promised. I’m still pregnant” she whispers. There’s so much grief pooling inside her, seeping in and bleeding out, it makes it hard to speak but she doesn’t have enough time and he needs to know. “We’re going to have a baby, and he’ll have eyes just like yours. He’ll be beautiful and he’ll be ours. And we’ll love him, you remember that, ok. You fight for us and you fight for that baby, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s still not looking at her and she clutches his collar roughly, “Jughead, I need you to promise me. I need you to tell me you’re going to fight it,” her fingers are trembling but she doesn’t let go, “please tell me you’ll fight it,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He shakes his head, like he doesn’t understand what she’s talking about, “I love you, Betty. I never said it before and I wish I had...there’s not a day I’ve known you and not loved you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She starts sobbing. She’s still holding onto him, but the tears won’t stop now. It’s useless trying to say anything more when he’s just told her he loves her for the very first time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you, too,” Betty cries into his neck, kissing his skin and the pulse beneath it, running her hands over his shoulders, gripping his hair, gripping on to anything that will stay, even as he’s slipping away from her. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you more than anything else, Jughead. I’d die for you. Please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me alone. Fight it-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t let her finish, he’s kissing her and it’s hard and desperate. She keeps telling herself it’s not a goodbye, not the way he holds her and pushes against her. This can’t be goodbye because she’ll never let go of him, not now, not ever. He lifts her up and she wraps her legs around him and he pushes her against the wall. Her mind seems to have slowed down, cataloguing every detail, the way he touches her, the way he kisses her like he’s pouring a part of himself inside her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s whispering I love you in his ears when Jughead eases inside her with a kind of ruthless tenderness that breaks her heart into a million sharp pieces, prickling like needles inside her rib cage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After he’s made love to her, they lie holding each other, while he constantly traces her face, kissing her and running his fingers through her hair. Betty just lies there, trying to hold onto every second of this moment, sighing into his mouth every time he kisses her, forcing herself to hold back the tears that keep threatening to spill.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re so beautiful,” Jughead murmurs and she curls her fingers in his hand resting her head against his heart, “I want you to know that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, even if I never say it again.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She lets out a watery laugh and it surprises a smile out of him. He runs a gentle hand over her cheek and Betty sighs. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can feel parts of myself fading away,” he says, almost to himself and she forces herself to look into his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fight it,” she whispers again, “fight it as hard as you can-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How?” Jughead asks desperately, she can feel it in the way he’s holding her again, the minutes slipping away like golden sand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She presses her lips against his heart and kisses him, “Remember this feeling,” she tells him and then kisses his throat, his jaw, his warm beautiful mouth. “Just try and remember what this feels like-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Promise me you’ll never stop loving me. Promise me you’ll keep trying, and even if I say things that are hurtful, you won’t hate me. You won’t give up on me, promise me, Betty-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“-of course,” she whispers, “I’ll never give up on you. I’ll love you enough for the two of us-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“-you remember it’s me ok? You remember that no matter what I say or do, what I feel or don’t feel, it’s me, always trying-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I will, I will, I will...” she pulls him closer promising herself she won’t sleep away these precious few hours with him when he closes his eyes, but the weight and the warmth of him lulls her and she loses herself. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll never let go of you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thinks one last time before she succumbs to fatigue and the reassuring heat of his hand on her hip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blinding light jolts her awake and it takes some time to regain enough orientation to figure out where she is. She’s lying alone on Jughead’s couch in front of the huge glass windows that they’ve never dared to sleep in front of before. She sits up in a panic, berating herself for falling asleep. The space next to her is cold, which means Jughead must have woken long before her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s suddenly wide awake as the events of last night hit her full force; Jughead’s been given the cure, it’s finally Saturday, everything is falling apart. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty finds him in the kitchen, brewing a cup of coffee, facing away from her, standing with his back ramrod straight, nothing loose or relaxed about his posture, even in the safety of his own home. Her heart drops like a stone to the bottom of her stomach.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jughead?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He turns and it hits her immediately that she’s lost him. The man staring back at her is not the man she went to sleep with. The words tumble out of her mouth before she can stop herself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you still love me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He stares at her unblinking, his face impassive and emotionless, then simply says, “I remember I loved you, but I don’t feel it anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s strange that the glass around them doesn’t shatter into a million pieces because she feels like her heart already has. The stab of pain is so severe, she wonders if it’s possible to actually die of heartache. He’s looking at her like he used to look at her, before all of this started, that same indifferent gaze, and she wants to look away from him, but she can’t.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So do you- I mean, do you even...” Betty pauses, her lower lip trembling as she tries to keep herself from collapsing, “do you want to still go?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead’s quiet for a second only before he nods, “I do.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We made a plan. I made a promise to you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’re willing to- to come with me- just for that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugs. It’s such a noncommittal gesture, far too casual for such a huge undertaking but his words stop her train of thought, “I don’t have anything here. And although I don’t feel it, I still remember how important it was to me, being with you...so yes I’m willing to come just for that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t know what to say. She thinks she’ll never know for the rest of her life now. It’s such a burden on her now, this whole plan. Her heart feels scarred and dead and numb, but maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe if she feels nothing, it will help her make the journey because she still needs to get out, she still needs to fight for their child. She’ll die before she let’s the Collective take it from her like they’ve taken Jughead. It’s 8:30 am and the train will leave soon. She looks at him and nods, speaking like she exists out of her body, numb and unaffected.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then it’s time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing happens on the train journey like she’d feared. No one even looks at them twice when they change trains at Trent, boarding the last one for Welling. He sits far apart from her quiet and withdrawn, and she’s almost grateful for that. She wants a little privacy in her grief. The train is empty save for one elderly man who sleeps for most of the time and Betty finds herself crying silently as she watches the changing scenery outside, the wilderness apparent with each passing mile. Most of the land is uninhabited, save for the occasional cottage here and there, where mostly older civilians now reside. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t realize he’s moved closer to her until she feels his hand pat her hesitantly twice on her arm.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t cry,” he says almost gently and it’s so strange how suddenly she feels comforted at that soothing tone of his voice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m- I’m sorry, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not,” he says in that same soft tone, “I remember whenever you cried I was unhappy. I don’t feel that anymore, but I remember that it was important to me to comfort you. I remember thinking that I never wanted to see you cry.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She takes a shuddering breath, wiping her face. They’ll be reaching Welling in an hour or so and then FP will fly them to the border tonight. Whoever this man sitting next to her is, at least he’s not a stranger. He may not be her Jughead anymore but he’s still the man she’s always known to be kind and gentle. Maybe it will be ok one day. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She gives him a small smile and says, “Thank you. Your words mean a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>FP isn’t quite what she expected for a man who’s had SOS for nearly twenty years, like Jason had told them. The disease seems to have left him completely untouched, judging from the way he moves and interacts with everyone around him. He picks them up from the station in a black truck and they drive in silence to an old barn. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We keep the old planes here and I’m still in charge of maintenance. No one questions my coming and going because I do patrols for the Collective even now. You can rest a little here, we’ll need to leave by eight tonight, a man’s been told to meet you at the edge of the forest.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’ll be safe right? I mean, these people are ok about us coming?” Betty asks. Jughead’s been silent throughout the journey and even now, he sits a little away from them, preoccupied with his own thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re fine with it. They’re ordinary folk living their lives, not some crazed people like the collective likes to paint them. What’s with him? He ok? I can’t quite put why he looks so familiar-” FP asks, nodding subtly towards Jughead, who’s standing now, looking into the distance. Betty’s stomach drops at FP’s wary tone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She bites her lip trying to figure out how to tell him then sighs, “He’s been given the cure. He can’t really feel anything like the others but he remembers everything. It’s strange, he’s not like he was before or after SOS. He’s just different...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>FP snorts, his expression pulled in disbelief, “That’s a huge risk you’re taking, little lady. You sure he wants this?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He came of his own free will. I don’t know why it was so important for him to keep his word, it’s not like-” she swallows, eyes prickling.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope he doesn’t regret it. Look I don’t really talk to these folks ever, ok, they’re not my friends. I know a couple, we meet at the forest border, they give me what I need, I give them what they need. That’s it. The few people that have turned don’t come visiting me, but I know they’re doing ok. Your Jughead- he’s another matter. I don’t know what they’re going to react like when they find out he’s still like the others at the Collective-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not like the others,” Betty cuts in stubbornly, gritting her teeth. “He’s fighting it, I know he is.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>FP doesn’t say anything after that and Betty’s only thankful. She doesn’t need the older man reminding her that this is probably the greatest mistake of her entire life. From the corner of her eyes she can tell Jughead is tense, just like her, waiting, waiting, waiting. She lets out a wistful sigh.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s too late to worry now. Whatever happens, happens.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>                                    XxxxxxxxxxxX                                       </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Freedom is a strange concept to grapple with when newly acquainted.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The first few weeks in the Peninsula are rife with fear, amongst strange new people and a life she could never have prepared for, even if she’d tried.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s still a wonder to her, how these people have let them into their lives without question. The village they now call their home has a population of four hundred and thrives off the food it grows. The houses they live in are rough wooden huts, the clothes they wear woven on looms, or sometimes the ones that FP supplies them in exchange for the strange herbs these people call ‘weed’.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She hasn’t heard from him again- FP, but some of the men talk about him sometimes. Jughead doesn’t talk much, so he hasn’t really gotten to know any of the men and she tries to limit her interactions to the women mostly. Still it takes several weeks to pass before she truly begins to feel safe.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Both of them are given duties to perform and she learns many new skills. They teach her how to weave, how to chop firewood, how to care for the animals they keep. She’s a constant bundle of nerves, trying to overcome her anxiety of failing at these tasks, but these people don’t really seem to care much about her fumbling. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a slowness to this place, like life is a little on hold. Maybe it is. One day melts into another and the chores that are left unfinished are taken up the next day, without any consequences or the fear of punishment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead’s easily melded into his role as a helper on the farms. His work in the Collective seems to have prepared him perfectly for this role here, unlike her. While she often finds herself almost missing that academic environment, he seems to be thriving in this place.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Strangely enough she’s not...unhappy. That’s the best way to describe how she feels here, amongst people who are slowly beginning to mean something to her. She’s not alone like she thought she would be either. These people rely on each other, they are bond makers and she finds herself slowly learning to make such bonds herself. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s not alone but she’s lonely. And she’s lonely for a man who sleeps next to her every night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She begins keeping a journal just so she has something to write. And mostly she writes about him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She makes friends. There’s a woman about her age called Veronica who is loud and fierce and completely unafraid of anything or anyone. Her birth mother, Hermione, is kind and Betty finds it easiest to go to her when she has questions. Veronica lives with a man named Archie and their common friend who calls himself Sweet Pea. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then there’s the rather odd Penelope who makes herbal medicines and functions as the village doctor. Betty finds out Penelope escaped from the Collective like them, nearly seven years ago. It strikes her how familiar she looks and it is only when the older woman confides to her hesitantly that she birthed a male child there and often wonders what became of him that Betty pieces it together. Penelope is, without doubt, Jason’s birth mother. She feels torn between keeping this to herself and telling her. Ultimately she doesn’t.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Unlike her, while Jughead is good at the work he does, he remains withdrawn from the people. He flinches at their loud voices and avoids physical contact. At night in their little hut, he helps her with the chores, but even then barely speaks to her. She’s resigned herself to his silence and she writes about it when there’s no one around to read her thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>// I feel such a terrible burden in my heart sometimes. It seems I have condemned Jughead to a life that is not of his choosing. At least if I suffer, I have the consolidation of my unborn child, the love for whom grows by leaps and bounds by the day. I wonder sometimes if I ever loved Jughead as much as I do his child. The thought riddles me with guilt, it seems my love for him is waning despite my promise on our last night together, but can I truly blame myself when he barely looks at me?//</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her pregnancy progresses smoothly as the weeks pass and she settles into the new normal. The initial excitement of their arrival has worn off and slowly over time Jughead’s attitude towards her begins to change. She notes even the tiniest of changes, cataloguing the details in her journal every night.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>//He tells me sometimes about his day now, about the people he works with, the things they do and say. He seems to have grown fond of me- maybe this is something he’s learning from memory or perhaps he likes me because I’m familiar. Before the disease, all I felt was a sense of comradery with the others, but nothing more, and never did I prefer one over the other, so it’s hard to understand his partiality towards me.//</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Archie and Sweet Pea often help with little tasks around the house, fixing broken things that Jughead can’t mend. Betty’s grown to like them over time. They’re rowdy and unkempt, but they mean no harm and it warms her heart how they look out for the two of them in ways that are hardly noticeable, but mean a lot. Jughead remains neutral towards them and sometimes she wishes he wouldn’t be quite so...well, rude. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s grown more at ease in her presence, though. They eat their meals together, and spend their evenings quietly reading or writing. Sometimes Jughead likes to sketch. He doesn’t ever show her, but one night she finds a portrait of herself, drawn with so much tender care and attention to detail that it leaves her breathless.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>//I don’t know if it’s in my head, but he looks at me sometimes like he used to, when he was mine to hold and love. It has been three months since we escaped and I go through strange episodes of extreme joy and grief. Sometimes I catch him looking at me, so thoughtful and pensive. I wish he would tell me what he thinks about. I wish I could hold him so much. Only yesterday he brought home wildflowers and I smiled in delight. After I put them away in a vase, he was looking at me and said, ‘you’re beautiful,’. I couldn’t think of anything to say and then he just left to go wash up. I wish I had said something.//</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sleep in the same bed, but always with several feet of space between them. Every night Betty lies awake in the dark, listening to his breaths even out slowly and she knows exactly when he falls asleep.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps it’s the shared intimacy of their four walls, but she can sometimes catch glimpses of the old Jughead; her Jughead. He laughs now instead of only smiling. He tells her if he enjoys a meal. Sometimes he even sits close to her when she reads to him. And very rarely he touches her too, but these touches are very calculated, like he wants to expose the bare minimum of his skin to hers. Still she nearly burns herself the first time he does it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>//He touched me for the first time in so many months today. I was boiling water for a bath and about to carry it to the old tub we keep near the fireplace, but then I felt Jughead’s hands on my waist. I nearly spilled the boiling water on myself from shock. He only said, ‘let me help,’ and took the pail from my hands. I can still feel the heat of his fingers on my skin several hours later. I had thought my desire for him was cooling, but I was wrong. I have been tormented by images of him making love to me. There is a wetness between my thighs and I’m aching to relieve myself, but he sleeps close by and I’m ashamed to do it with him right next to me.//</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The more she learns about them, the more she realizes how strange the deviants are. (She can’t help using that word despite being one of them now. Then she hears Penelope use it one day and realizes some behaviours can never be unlearned). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They seem to have a varying range of emotions and sometimes too much of it. They’re always fighting or laughing loudly. They use words that she later finds out mean very crude things, the most favourite being the word ‘fuck’ along with it’s many colourful variations. The women enjoy the attention men give them, dressing sometimes in ways that seem too provocative to her and she finds herself feeling deeply uncomfortable at the often blatant acts of intimacy they are willing to perform in front of others. They break into fights and then make up, they dance and sing. They feel in ways she thinks she will never experience, but it makes her glad to think her child will.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She finds herself deeply shocked when Veronica tells her she sleeps with both Archie and Sweet Pea, and that all three of them mostly spend their nights together.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you guys fuck? You and Jughead...I know you said you were together but he hardly ever touches you...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s that word again, she thinks flustered as she tries to answer, “We used to, we were together for many weeks before he- before he got the vaccine.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So you’re not together anymore?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We are,” Betty replies immediately, trying not to feel offended with her new friend. “We just don’t- we just haven’t slept together since then. He doesn’t feel that way about me anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s surprised she’s even able to say it out loud, the constant ache that’s gnawed away at her heart and mind since that terrible night.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well let me know if you ever want to scratch an itch. Sweet Pea’s got his eyes set on you, if you’re interested,” Veronica says nonchalantly as Betty blanches, physically recoiling at the thought of another man touching her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I- no. I don’t want to be with anyone but Jughead. I can’t imagine loving anyone but him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica lets out a surprised little laugh, “What does love have to do with it? It’s just sex...but don’t fret. I was just saying-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She gapes at the dark haired woman too confused by her words to absorb anything else. These people are so odd, they seem to have such an abundance of sexual desire and they find it so easy to separate the physical aspect of love from the emotional aspect of it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Or perhaps she’s the one with the wrong ideas about sex and love.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica’s remarks make her more aware of Sweet Pea’s presence and although it’s very subtle, Betty can tell there’s something definitely flirty about the way he interacts with her. She tries not to feel too uncomfortable, she likes him as a friend but she doesn’t want to give him any indication that she’s interested in him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He drops by one evening to restock their firewood. There is nothing unusual about this since Jughead is useless with an axe and she finds chopping wood very tiring now. Still, there’s a tense air surrounding the three of them as Sweet Pea drinks the herbal tea she offers and Jughead sits and stares at him with a blank expression on his face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sweet Pea leaves a little while later, but not before pulling her ponytail like he often does and something about this otherwise innocent gesture makes her blush. She turns to find Jughead watching her closely and she tries not to think too much into it as she picks up her knife and resumes chopping the onions. It remains quiet between them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t trust that man,” Jughead says suddenly. Betty looks up surprised.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sweet Pea?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Jughead replies. There’s a frown on his face and Betty has no idea why he seems almost irritated when he says, “He knows we’re together, right? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That surprises a laugh out of her, “Of course. Why wouldn’t he know? I have your baby inside me, don’t I?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He looks at her bump, where she’s rubbing gentle strokes even now. His expression softens and something twists painfully inside her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m happy you will be this baby’s mother.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her hand stills, throat closing at the hesitant tone of his voice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And you the father,” she murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He looks distressed, “I don’t think I’ll ever be much of anything to it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You will,” she says firmly in a way that implies there is no room for argument. “You’ll teach it to draw and grow things. You’ll protect it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t say anything so she continues softly after a pause, “You’ll love this child in your own way. And I’ll love it enough for the two of us.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead nods, and they fall quiet again, but he is restless in his sleep that night.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>//I don’t know what to make of it. Is he jealous? I can’t think of any other reason, but if he is truly jealous, what does it stem from? Does he feel possessive about the baby? Or perhaps this is something that is triggered by his memories of us? But what if- what if he feels a little bit of love for me?//</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something changes after the fourth month of her pregnancy. She’s damped down her feelings, losing herself in work and learning new skills, but out of nowhere a new cycle of want erupts within her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead’s tanner than he used to be, almost a dark olive tone and his body has adapted to the rougher living conditions. The muscles in his back, his arms, his abdomen are so much more pronounced now, his hair is longer. He was beautiful before, but there’s something so raw and untamed about him now. She finds herself often stealing glances his way whenever she thinks he’s too busy to notice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Even now, as he stands stirring the pot like she’s asked him to while she grates some cheese, she can’t stop looking at him. He smiles when he catches her staring and a sudden rush of want curls in her belly. She’s felt so much grief over these past few months and such a constant longing for who he used to be, that they still take her by surprise, these moments of overwhelming physical desire for this man who is almost a stranger in so many ways. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She looks away feeling flustered, her breathing laboured, hoping he hasn’t noticed anything. The last thing she wants to do is scare him away. She focuses on the cheese, sticky on her hands with how hot it is, trying to slow her heart rate and only dares to sneak a glance his way after she’s sure almost ten minutes have passed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s still looking at her and she nearly cuts her finger with the knife.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>//What are you thinking? What are you thinking when you look at me like that?//</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Several days later, she wakes up to find him pacing around the room in the middle of the night, clearly agitated. She sits up slowly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s wrong? Jug?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He stops abruptly and then shakes his head, “It’s nothing. Go back to sleep. I’m just feeling a little strange.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>“</b>
  <span>Are you alright? Do you feel sick?” her body reacts in panic and she has a hand pressed to his forehead before she can stop herself. Strangely enough, he doesn’t flinch and she realizes she’s standing closer to him than she has in a long time. His skin feels cool, so she lets out a shuddering breath laced with relief and moves to step back. His hand suddenly clasps hers and she freezes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel strange,” Jughead repeats, ”I’m not sick, but-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He swallows and Betty’s breath comes out in a hot burst of air when he drops her hand but lets his own hover hesitantly on the soft bump that’s becoming more apparent each day. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I touch it?” he whispers and her words get caught in her throat, so she just pulls his hands flush against her belly and holds them there. He’s staring at her and she feels like there’s not enough air in the room, like it’s hard to draw in a lungful. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, like he’s afraid any quick movement might hurt her, he drops to his knees and places his lips against her belly and kisses it, then presses his cheek against her skin, breathing deeply. Betty places her hands on his shoulders although they’re shaking, holding him steady, her fingertips pressing into the muscle. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Betty,” he breathes, “I think the vaccine isn’t working the way it was meant to. I think it’s losing its efficacy as time passes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I- there are moments in time when- it’s hard to tell if what I feel is real or just what I’m remembering from memory. Sometimes I can almost feel everything with this strange intensity, like there’s so much trapped inside me fighting to get out...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let it, let it come out,” she whispers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think about our baby all the time. I think if I could hold it, I might be able to tell. It would be real whatever I feel for him, I wouldn’t be able to draw from memory.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She closes her eyes, “You will hold it. And you’ll know. You’ll love him like you loved me, with all your heart and soul. I know it, I can feel how he moves when you talk, or when you’re near me. He loves you, too, so much.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>//He touches me often now. He’ll hold my hand, or caress my cheek. He likes to rub my belly the most. I don’t think it’s meant to be sexual, but my skin burns every time nonetheless. I have taken to touching myself quite frequently, the women tell me I’m experiencing desire because of all the hormonal changes. I don’t know, but when I touch myself, I think about him, and strangely not about the old Jughead but this one, this strange man who can’t seem to find peace in who he is anymore. Maybe in his head he really is fighting it. Maybe he will come back to me one day.//</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s falling in love with him again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t know how to stop herself, it’s not like she had ever stopped, but she had tried to. And now, the little walls she’s been building around her heart over these past few months to make herself less vulnerable are slowly crumbling to dust. She thinks she’ll never learn to separate the physicality of love from the emotion of it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>What she feels is different, but also the same. Just like he is different and yet still the same. It’s confusing and complicated and it makes her feel on edge all the time. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He asks her one night if she misses the old version of him and the question startles her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I just- I think even if I’m right and the vaccine does stop working, I don’t- I don’t think I’d ever be completely the same- and you may not feel the way you used to-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t care,” she says softly, and she thinks it’s only fair to tell him first this time around, even if he never says it back, “I love you, Jughead. I will always love you like I used to, no matter what.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He stares at her for the longest time and then slowly he walks towards her. There’s something about the way he’s moving, it’s terrifying and unfamiliar, almost territorial, like he’s stalking to mark his prey and she wraps her hands around her belly protectively, her breath caught in her throat. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He stops two feet from her and swallows. Betty’s heart begins hammering painfully, as he slowly reaches out and touches her face. He traces his fingertips along her cheek, her eyebrows, her nose and finally stops at her lips, a gentle caress that awakens a memory she’s buried deep inside her heart. She can’t move, she’s paralyzed and when Jughead tilts her face up so she’ll meet his eyes, it feels like her heart may just beat it’s way out of her ribcage.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I think in this moment Betty, I love you like I used to,” he says and presses his mouth to hers.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>eeeeeeeeep!!! Yes! He's going to be OKAY! </p>
<p>Whew...I considered ending this ambiguously with them boarding the train to an unknown future like it does in the movie buuuuuut I just couldn't leave it there! And I loved writing about the Peninsula and all those happy heathens like Lana so ingeniously called them lol! </p>
<p>Some headcanons:</p>
<p>Jughead continues to relapse and remit between feeling and not feeling for some time but recovers fully by the third year. He does change but Betty loves the new version of him even more so we're good!</p>
<p>Betty is very sure they're going to have a boy and secretly names him Jason but they end up having a girl. They name her Freedom. It's cheesy but they don't know that:p Jughead cries when she's born and later tells Betty, the love he feels for his daughter is 100 percent real. </p>
<p>They continue to mingle with the deviants. Overtime, Jughead warms up first to Archie and later to Sweetpea and they end up becoming friends, although he does tend to get jealous occasionally as much as Betty reassures him. Which is a good kick everytime he's relapsing:p</p>
<p>Betty never tells Jughead this but she realizes over time that FP may have been Jughead's biological father. She never finds out.</p>
<p>They fall all over in love again. Of course they do❤</p>
<p>That's it! I hope you enjoyed it! Please drop a comment or kudos because I love, love, love hearing from you guys! Thank you so much for reading as always! Stay happy! Stay safe! I'm @honestlyhappymoon on tumblr- come drop by for a chat anytime! Love you guys!!!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ahhhhh...Betty POV next! I know this got wayyyyy toooo looong but sigh, I don't even try to fight it any more. Thank you so much for reading! Drop a comment and kudos pretty please because your words are the best gift a girl can ask for! Come tumble with me @honestlyhappymoon! I love you all!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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